


don't let your mind speak louder than your heart

by acreatureofhope



Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: F/M, Redemption, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-02-08
Updated: 2016-04-03
Packaged: 2018-05-19 00:20:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 23,686
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5948899
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/acreatureofhope/pseuds/acreatureofhope
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When all is said and done, can anyone blame you more than you blame yourself?</p><p>Or, the story of a choice, its repercussions, and the idea that there are always those who love you even when you don't think you deserve it.</p><p>|| ON HIATUS ||</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Everything he saw was tinged with scarlet.

Bodies fell as he watched, Resistance and First Order alike, staining the ground of Korriban once again. It was symbolic, he supposed, that their fight would take place at the home of the Sith. For some reason, it always seemed to go back to the Sith.

A chuckle came from beside him, and he turned his head slightly to look at the red-haired man who stood there.

"Look at them, Ren," General Hux said, the glee in his voice unmistakable. "They're dropping like flies, the lot of them. They were fools to think they could beat us."

"Perhaps," Kylo Ren said. "Should you not be out there with them, fighting?"

"Shouldn't you?" Hux responded, his gaze fixed on the battle raging in front of them.

Kylo's fists tightened, but he restrained himself. It wouldn't do to lose his temper when victory was so close.

The fight had been going on for hours, ever since the first of the Resistance pilots came into sight. How they had found the First Order was unknown to Kylo, though he had his suspicions, but it mattered not. They had underestimated the strength of their enemy. The Resistance would fall, and the First Order would rule over everything.

He took a step forward, only to fall headlong into someone else's consciousness, a horrified scream ripping through his mind. They were on the battlefield, fighting raging around them, and he could only watch and listen as a voice— _her_ voice—shouted, "General!"

A blaster bolt was headed straight towards the back of the woman she had called to, a woman that his deepest thoughts reached out to. Something in him cracked as a Resistance fighter threw themselves in front of the bolt just in time, falling to the ground as the woman—his _mother_ —turned around in horror.

She had barely a moment to react to her compatriot's sacrifice before she was engaged in combat with another Stormtrooper, and Kylo fell into his own mind once more as the consciousness he was inhabiting returned to the battle.

Hux didn't seem to have noticed his departure, as the general was still blathering on about the fight. "Wait but a few more moments, and General Organa and the girl will be overwhelmed. When they fall, so too will the Resistance."

Suddenly it was not just the world around Kylo that was tinged with red, but his vision as well. The thing within him that had cracked proceeded to shatter at Hux's words, and a part of him that he had kept well-hidden surged forth, leaving him no doubts as to what he had to do.

"Isn't it beauti—"

Hux was cut off as Kylo lifted him with the Force, his throat constricted. He hung there in the air, staring in horror at Kylo. It wasn't until a small voice appeared in the back of Kylo's mind that he released the general, letting the man fall unconscious to the floor. He toed Hux with his boot, and upon determining that he wouldn't awaken for several hours, left the control room. That was more than enough time. Win or lose, the fight would be over by then.

He could feel anger pulsing around him as he walked through the empty corridors, and knew that everyone on the planet felt it too. They would be fools to not run away from it, he thought, so he must have been a fool too, for he was walking towards the source.

The Stormtroopers didn't seem to realize that anything was wrong when he stepped out onto the battlefield. It had been inevitable that he would join them—they had been told that he would—and it wasn't until he struck the first one down that they turned on him.

He cut through them like they were nothing, carving himself a path through the fighting towards the old Sith Academy. His master waited there, fury radiating off of him to cloud the air, and Kylo could not bring himself to run.

He had caused this, and so he must be the one to finish it.

He knew that she could tell that he had entered the fray, for their consciousnesses called out to one another, and he knew that she was puzzled as to his motives as he approached the place that would almost certainly be the site of his death. After one last touch to her mind, he shut himself off from her. He was doing this for his mother, not her, and she did not need to witness him fall. He only hoped he could buy them enough time to escape.

The anger grew stronger as he walked, the air thickening with emotion, and it was all that he could do to focus on the ground beneath his feet. He would not turn and run, not anymore. His master would not come out, so he would go in. It was the only way.

When he reached the chamber that would be the home to his final demise, he reached up and removed his helmet. It did not belong to him anymore.

He kept it tucked under his arm as he entered the chamber, his gaze locked on the disfigured man that sat atop a throne in the center of the room. It was an image he had seen in person but a few times, as it most often came to him in the form of a hologram, but he did not allow its physicality to turn him away.

Instead, he dropped the helmet. The sound of the metal hitting the ground rang through the room, the helmet rolling away from him as he locked gazes with the man that had been his master.

"You have betrayed me, Kylo Ren," Snoke hissed.

"No," Kylo said. "It is I who have betrayed myself."

That was all it took for Snoke to rise from his throne, a lightsaber materializing in his hand where nothing had been before. Kylo drew his own, the blade filling the room with blood-red light.

He did not know who attacked first, or how he managed to survive Snoke's first blow. He did not know how long they circled one another, or how he managed to force out Snoke's attacks on his mind. He did not know how he found himself on his knees before Snoke, his lightsaber dangling uselessly from his hand as the Force held him in his position.

"For your impertinence, you will die, Kylo Ren," Snoke said.

Kylo did not know how it happened, but suddenly there was a voice in his head that was not his own, a voice that he thought he'd shut out.

 _Fight, you idiot_ , it said. _We're dying out here. Stand your ground and fight._

He felt power surge through him, shattering the bonds that Snoke had placed around his body. He switched on his lightsaber and brought it up in one motion, running Snoke through as he had run through his own father.

The Supreme Leader stared at him, skewered on his blade, as he rose and wiped the blood from his mouth. "My name," he said, "is Ben Solo."

As he finished speaking, the last glimmer of life in Snoke's eyes faded. He switched off his lightsaber, his former master crumpling to the floor at his feet.

It wasn't until then that he became aware of the searing pain on his side and the blood beginning to pool beneath him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hateeeeee myself I shouldn't have started another fic I should be asleep right now.
> 
> No promises as to when the next chapter will arrive, or where exactly this story is going (I have a vague idea, but I really need to write a plot outline for it because I just sort of jumped in headfirst).
> 
> Also, I'm relatively new to the Star Wars fandom (I saw all the movies as a child, but it took until TFA for me to go "Wait, this is actually fantastic" so I'm a little late to the party), and unlike Harry Potter, I do not know canon inside and out and am currently playing it by ear, so if I screw something up please let me know and I'll fix it. I'm trying to educate myself but this was begging to be written and I will not be able to acquire my own copies of the original movies until this weekend (and I'll have to watch them many times and pay many visits to Wookiepedia before I'll really feel comfortable, but that's all right), so please go easy on me.
> 
> I know there wasn't much going on in regards to Rey here but there will be eventually—this is going to expand upon the story told in my one shot "guard your hope with your life" so it's going to happen but I have to get there first. Slow burn, people. Slow burn. 
> 
> This is yet another work in my collection of things titled by lines from songs by Bear's Den. "Elysium" holds the titles to both "hold out against the night" and "guard your hope with your life," hence using "elysium" to title the story holding the pair of them. The title for this story comes from a song called "Don't Let The Sun Steal You Away" and it reminds me very much of Kylo Ren/Ben Solo—I would've used the verse "Fickle night you are a liar/and you made a fool out of me/you mistook my love for desire/and you set my demons free" as a title, but that's wayyyyyy too long, so we've got "don't let your mind speak louder than your heart" instead.
> 
> Let me know what you think, and hopefully I'll be able to update soon.


	2. Chapter 2

He gritted his teeth and pressed his hand tightly over the wound that Snoke had inflicted on his side during their fight. Without a backward glance, he stumbled out of the chamber, leaving Snoke's body to rot there. There was a cracking sound as he made his way toward the entrance to the Academy, and a moment later, chunks of stone began to rain from the ceiling.

He increased his pace as much as he could, his vision growing blurry as he moved close to his destination, and he nearly collapsed upon reaching the entryway. Dragging himself forward, he managed to cross the threshold of the academy just as a large boulder fell to barricade the doors.

Unable to move, he remained where he was, conscious of the spreading pain he felt just beneath his ribs. Snoke had cut him on the opposite side from where Chewbacca had shot him, and he couldn't help a dark chuckle at the thought—if he survived this, which was looking to be a pretty big _if_ , he'd have scars on both sides. At least something about him would match.

He couldn't decide if he was hallucinating or dying when a blur appeared in the sky an unknown amount of time later. When the transporter landed on the ground a short distance from him, the answer became clear—dying. He was definitely dying.

The idea was only strengthened by the two figures that stepped out of the ship a few moments later. They regarded him with suspicion, FN-21—no, that wasn't his name anymore, what was it—Finn's blaster trained on him as the former Stormtrooper and Poe Dameron approached.

"What do you say, Finn?" Dameron asked. "Do we leave him?"

Finn opened his mouth to respond, but Kylo cut him off. "Snoke's dead."

His own voice grated on his ears, his throat rough. A hacking cough followed, and he stared at the specks of blood that had landed on his hand. Dameron and Finn simply looked at him, and after a moment, he let go of the lightsaber that was still clutched in his other hand. It rolled towards the pair, and the last thing that he saw before his eyes closed was Dameron bending down to pick it up, Finn's blaster still trained on him.

His sleep was deep, dreamless, and when he finally came to, it was to find himself located on a different transport ship (there was no way this medbay was in the tiny thing that Finn and Dameron had arrived in). His lightsaber was nowhere in sight, not that it would've mattered. Despite the bacta patches that were firmly fixed to his side, he was in no shape to do anything more than walk. Even using the Force would have been a stretch.

He didn't recognize the two Resistance fighters who stood guard by the door, their blasters held in their hands. They hadn't trained the weapons on him, but he knew that they would the moment he moved.

His prediction was proven correct when he coughed a moment later. He stared down the barrels of the weapons at both of them, noting the way that the man's eyes were filled with curiosity.

"You want to know something," he said, meeting the man's gaze, his voice returned to its usual level of harshness. "What is it?"

The woman sent a sidelong glance at the man, the warning unmistakable, but it was no use. Though he kept his blaster aimed at Kylo, the man spoke, the woman's glare growing more pronounced with every word.

"Is it true? Is Snoke dead?"

"Shut up, Cayburn," the woman hissed. "You're here to guard the prisoner, not make conversation with him."

Kylo tamped down the rage that surged through him at the mention of the word _prisoner_. It would do him no good to be angry, not when he could barely move. The emotion was further settled and replaced by a twisted sense of amusement as the two fighters began to bicker, their weapons unmoving.

It wasn't long before he fell asleep again, the room falling silent as his eyes closed. Much as he wanted to stay awake and find out where they were going, he supposed it didn't really matter. Whether it was Takodana, Hoth, Coruscant, D'Qar,  or somewhere else, they would likely kill him upon arrival anyway.

There was a time when he would have done anything to escape, to preserve his own life, but it didn't seem important. He'd failed at being a Jedi, he'd failed at being Snoke's apprentice, and if Snoke wasn't going to kill him, it was inevitable that the Resistance would. After everything that he had done, killing him was the most logical step, one that he couldn't fault them for.

Besides, he was in no position to flee. Where would he go? The Resistance would be hunting him down, as would any remnant of the First Order. Better to just get it over with quickly than spend the rest of his days like an animal waiting for slaughter.

When he woke again, he was alone in the room, save for the medical droid stationed in the corner. He had no doubt that it would dose him with a tranquilizer if he tried anything, so he remained where he was. Probing into the Force, he found two guards stationed outside the door, though he didn't recognize either of them.

He stared at the ceiling, unable to stop the torrent of thoughts running through his mind. There was a tentative brush at the edges of his consciousness as his thoughts picked up speed, but it disappeared almost as soon as it arrived, and he didn't bother to follow it.

The sound of the door opening made him turn his head slightly. Dameron and Finn entered, the latter armed with a blaster once again. Dameron tossed a pile of black clothing on the bed—Kylo's clothing, still torn and tattered, but clean save for the bloodstains visible even on the dark cloth—careful to maintain a reasonable distance between himself and Kylo.

"We'll be landing soon," the pilot said. "I was all for killing you, but it seems we won't be going that route just yet."

Kylo couldn't place all of the emotions that flickered through Dameron's eyes as he spoke—there was anger and hatred, both expected, but also something that looked like sadness, and was that _pity?_

Once again, anger surged through Kylo, but he gritted his teeth and narrowed his eyes rather than release it entirely. He pushed himself up onto his elbows, Finn following his movements with the blaster. "What, going to parade me before the crowds before you do me in?"

"Oh, no," Dameron said. "There will be a hearing. The Resistance believes in justice, you know. Nobody dies unless they have to." He jerked his head in the direction of the clothes he'd thrown at Kylo. "Get dressed. Your 'saber isn't there, but that shouldn't be too much of a surprise." He waited until Kylo sat up fully and reached for the clothing. "We'll come collect you once we're on the ground. Try not to kill anyone once we're on our way out."

He didn't remain to catch Kylo's retort—not that there was one. Much as he wanted to rip into everyone around him, he couldn't. Without Snoke there to encourage it, the urge was nothing more than just that—an urge.

Of course, maybe it was just shock over the fact that they seemed to want him alive. Who was to say?

It took him some time to trade the thin grey pants that someone—a medical droid, likely—had dressed him in for his black ensemble. His lip curled at the sight of the large dark patch that spread out around the tear in the fabric where Snoke had cut him. All of that time, all of that work, and for what? To betray all he'd been working towards and nearly get himself killed in the process?

Nevertheless, it was over. What was it that his mother had always said when he was younger, back when he or his father would get into trouble? Something about how _you've made your choice, and so too you've chosen the consequences_?

He had no doubts that the consequences for this choice would be large.

It quickly became apparent that Dameron hadn't been lying when he'd used "soon" to describe their landing, as he returned not long after Kylo finished dressing, Finn at his shoulder once again.

"We're here," Dameron said. "Remember what I said, would you? They won't hesitate to kill you if you touch anyone." Kylo said nothing, and Dameron nodded after a moment. "Finn and I will escort you out, and there will be Resistance members at every spot along the way."

Kylo maintained his silence as he rose. He dwarfed both men, but neither of them showed any fear as they faced him. They parted so that he could walk between them, both poised to react if he tried to lash out, and once he started walking, he didn't stop.

He could feel the glares from every Resistance fighter they passed, the anger and hatred rolling off in waves. It didn't bother him. Before, he would have drawn strength from it. Now it was just a reminder that he would never be able to atone for what he'd done.

What did bother him, though, was the presence in the Force that he detected as they drew nearer to the exit. It had been masked from him before, but it had clearly been released, and he slowed his pace as they approached the ramp that led out of the ship.

He was jabbed in the back with a blaster—Finn's blaster—when he nearly stopped.

"Keep moving," came Dameron's voice, and Kylo did as he was told, ignoring the part of him that wanted to balk at the orders.

He was greeted by the sight of what had to have been almost the entirety of the Resistance as he exited the ship—or at least, the members of the Resistance who were on the planet—and they all seemed ready to attack him. It was impossible to put a name to what it was that was holding them back after everything.

That was,  it was impossible until the crowd parted to reveal the person whose Force signature he had detected, her mouth drawn in a thin line and her brow creased as she watched him descend the ramp. As small as she was, Leia Organa was a force to be reckoned with, something that hadn't changed over the course of her life, and Kylo couldn't help the fear that filled him at the sight of her expression.

Even after all that he'd seen, he was still more frightened of his mother than anything else.

He stopped just past the foot of the ramp, Dameron and Finn behind him, his gaze locked with Leia's and fright canceling out any other emotion that he might have been able to feel. If she rejected him, if she left him there, it would all be over. He would have nothing.

The moment she took one step forward, and then another, and then another, her expression softening, his fear dissipated to be replaced by a sadness so deep that it cut a chasm within him. He stumbled forward, ignoring the stares of the entire Resistance as he made his way towards his mother.

They stopped an arm's length away from one another, her gaze searching his face. Whatever it was that she saw, it seemed to be enough, for she raised her hand to his cheek in a gesture so similar to the one his father had made before he'd... Well.

"Oh, Ben," she whispered. "My beautiful boy."

That was all it took for him to sink to his knees in front of her, unable to stop the hot tears that formed in his eyes from falling. She put her arms around him, her hand stroking his hair and her presence in the Force wrapping around him in a gesture of absolute protection that shielded him from everyone else around them. He felt himself shake, felt the shame and the fear and the hurt move into the forefront of whoever it was that he'd become, and through all of it, she held him, murmuring "I love you" over and over and over again.

He didn't deserve it,  not at all, and perhaps that was what made him think that it would be the single most important thing he would ever hear for the rest of his life, however long that was going to be.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You'll probably notice that I called him Kylo through the duration of this chapter—while he told Snoke that he's Ben Solo, I don't think he's really quite there yet (and I don't think he feels that he's there yet either). I'll probably go back and forth for a bit depending on the context of the scene and whatnot, though don't quote me on that because I don't actually know what I'm doing with this story yet (one of these days I'll figure it out).
> 
> Some people would probably go "Leia wouldn't react like that!" but I think she would (obviously). I do think there's hurt there, and anger, in regards to what Kylo did to Han, but I think those emotions would come later (as you'll see). If Ben/Kylo came home and he wasn't a true prisoner (because he isn't really a true prisoner here since he isn't pure Kylo Ren, even if most of the Resistance treats him like he is) and he didn't seem to be entirely angry at her, I think the relief at having her son come home would trump all else. Yes, she lost her husband, and she lost him because of her son, but his return means that she didn't lose them both, and that's probably the most important thing for her. Ben/Kylo will definitely be held accountable, but I don't think that would be the first thing to go through her mind the moment he gets back. 
> 
> Also, I know it's not really explained how Poe and Finn knew to find him there, but it will be later (and you can probably figure it out if you think for like, point two seconds, but I didn't want to have them say it because it doesn't seem like the right way for Ben/Kylo to find out). 
> 
> I hope you guys enjoy the chapter, and I apologize if it's a little weird in some places. I have an exam tomorrow afternoon and I wrote this after studying for the better part of three hours so my brain is kind of fried (thanks, accounting). I needed to do something non-school related before I go to bed because I was developing a migraine (which happens when I do math for an extended period of time, which does make me call into question my career choice, but whatever) and since you guys have been so generous with your comments and I'd worked out most of the kinks in my rough plan for this chapter while trying to fall asleep last night, I figured I'd just write it and get it up here.
> 
> And on a similar note, thank you for letting me ramble about my theories in the comments—they're kind of a mess (just like me as a person lol) but I've really enjoyed thinking about them and it's helped me develop them somewhat.
> 
> I need to name baby Solo who doesn't actually exist in the context of this story but he's in my head and currently nameless, so if you have any ideas that you want to throw out there, I'm all ears. A few people have told me Anakin, and I've also heard Han/Luke but I just don't think any of those are quite right and I don't really want to name him something completely random.
> 
> I'll do my best to update again soon but it's midterm season and brother dear is coming home this weekend for a visit (and he hasn't seen TFA yet so I know what our bonding trip is going to be this time hahahaha), so no promises as to when it'll happen next. Long note is long and thanks for reading!


	3. Chapter 3

He couldn't bring himself to be ashamed of the way that he broke down in front of everyone. None of them mattered, not really, not in that moment. The only one whose opinion he cared about was his mother's, and she seemed more concerned with his return than she was with anything else.

But, like all good things, it couldn't last.

She took him, brought him away from the crowds into a room that looked suspiciously like her office, if the holopic of him when he was younger sitting on the corner of the desk was anything to go by. They were joined by Statura, Ematt, and several other officers, none of whom looked especially pleased to see him.

He couldn't blame them.

He also couldn't help the way that his hackles rose at the cold look that Statura sent his way, or the words that forced themselves out in a snarl. "What is this, a tribunal to decide the best way to kill me?"

Statura's mouth twitched, but he offered up no verbal response. "If we conclude that it is the best course of action, you will be tried for crimes against the Resistance and the Republic. Whether or not that trial will end in your death remains to be seen."

Kylo rolled his eyes. "I'm not an idiot." He sat forward in his chair, ignoring the way that the scar on his side pulled at his skin. "Everyone on this base wants me dead. Why would any of you think differently?"

"You aren't helping yourself here, boy," Major Ematt said, unflinching under Kylo's stare. "If you'd like to retain your life, I would suggest that you stop furthering the case against you."

The weight of Leia's gaze made Kylo turn his head—he would know the feeling of it anywhere, even without the brush of her presence in the Force. Her eyes were sad, and she shook her head ever-so-slightly when he looked at her.

"Not all of us want you dead," she said. "As General, I have to support the motion that we try you for your crimes. As your mother, however..."

"I killed your husband," Kylo said. He didn't respond to the gasps that ran through the room—whether they were a reaction to his bluntness or the information, he didn't know.

"I'm aware," Leia said. Her voice was calm despite the way that her expression twitched at his words. "You and I will be having a talk about that when all this is over."

The unspoken promise that he would be alive for them to have that talk hung in the room, and after a moment of tense silence, Statura spoke.

"You will be kept here under guard until we decide what is to be done with you," he said. "Your return presents many issues, and we will consider all options equally."

"You might not have any options to consider if those guards of yours kill me before you get the chance," Kylo said.

"I do believe we can trust Commander Dameron and Finn not to kill you, as they were the ones to bring you to us," Leia said. "General, Major, officers."

The look she cast in his direction as she followed the rest of the officers out of the room was as much a request as it was a warning, and he found himself inclining his head in response just before she disappeared through the doorway.

Dameron and Finn entered the room as she left, taking up positions on either side of the door. Both were armed with blasters, and they said nothing to him, a change from their attitudes on the ship that had brought about their return. Their eyes followed him as he pushed himself out of the chair he'd been sitting in, but neither brought up their blaster as he rounded his mother's desk to look at the contents of the shelves behind it.

He flipped through her holopics, taking note of the fact that almost all of them contained him as a child, his father, Chewbacca, or some combination thereof. A few boasted the addition of Luke, and several others also involved C-3PO or R2-D2 as well.

He paused at the sight of one of them—his mother was holding him just after he was born, with his father sitting beside her. Both were smiling as they traded glances, and his gaze locked on the way that his father's hand gently smoothed over the top of his head.

The sight of them in that holopic was a far cry from the parents that he remembered, and he couldn't help the way that his stomach twisted as he turned around.

He stiffened at the expressions on Dameron and Finn's faces. Both were watching him, curiosity evident in their eyes, and they exchanged a glance as he returned to his original seat.

"Finn, do you mind?" Dameron said after a few moments.

Finn looked at Dameron, then at Kylo, and then back at Dameron. "As long as you promise that you'll take full blame for this if the General finds out."

"You have my word," Dameron said.

Finn nodded, and he clapped Dameron on the shoulder before he made his way out of the room. Kylo watched him leave, unable to decipher the motivation for the change, and his confusion was only furthered when Dameron removed his blaster and set it on a shelf.

"What happened to you?" Dameron said eventually. "Where did you go?"

"I don't believe I owe you an explanation for my choices," Kylo said.

"Maybe not, but I want to understand," Dameron said. "We were _friends_ , Ben—Kylo Ren—Whatever it is that you're calling yourself now. We were friends."

His voice quieted on the last word, and a shiver ran down Kylo's spine. There was anger in the pilot's eyes, but there was no hatred. Instead, there was pain, and sadness, and something that couldn't be viewed as anything but immeasurable loss.

As though he sensed that he wasn't going to get a response, Dameron spoke again. "You had everything and you threw it away. Why?"

"Why not?" Kylo asked.

Dameron shook his head after a moment, only to fix Kylo with his gaze once again. "You killed Snoke."

It wasn't a question.

"So I did," Kylo said. "Perhaps it was time for the student to dethrone the master."

"That wasn't it," Dameron said, shaking his head once more. "You let us take you. It's what it was before, isn't it?"

There was no doubt as to what the pilot was referring to. He'd been there for enough of it, known the way that Kylo had struggled with the two sides of the Force, even if he hadn't seen the disaster that befell the Jedi academy. Everyone else had regarded Kylo with fear and suspicion over the years before he made his choice, but Dameron hadn't for reasons unknown.

Kylo's face contorted into a scowl, and Dameron sighed.

"I'm not afraid of you, you know," he said. "Much as I would like to, I find it difficult to hate you."

"You should hate me," Kylo said.

"I know," Dameron said. "That's what makes this so difficult." He laughed softly. "All we wanted was for you to come home, you know?"

"You didn't want _me_ to come home," Kylo said. "You wanted Ben Solo."

"Did we?" Dameron asked. "I'm not so sure." He leaned his shoulder against the wall, his pose more relaxed that what Kylo would have ever expected from anyone in the Resistance in his presence. "Not all of us wanted you to be what everyone expected from you, you know."

"Well, it didn't feel that way," Kylo snapped. He stiffened as his words registered in his mind. "We're done talking about this."

"Fine," Dameron said. "You told me what I wanted to know anyway."

"And what was that?" Kylo asked.

Dameron retrieved his blaster from the shelf where he'd set it. "Somewhere inside, underneath all of the First Order propaganda and the blustering, there's a part of you that's still _you_."

He left Kylo no time to respond before he exited the room to join Finn outside. The door shut, and the quiet that overtook the room after the pilot's departure was deafening.

Kylo rose from his chair. They hadn't given him back his lightsaber, and though he wanted to take his anger out on something, destroying his mother's possessions didn't seem like a good idea regardless. Instead, he began to pace back and forth, traversing the distance from the door to the desk over and over again.

He paid little attention to the chronometer on the desk as he walked, instead counting the number of steps that he took as he went back and forth. The counting distracted him, kept him from dwelling on the fact that an entire team of officers was deciding his fate in a room somewhere in the base he was standing in, and he had no say in the matter.

They came back long after he'd lost count of his steps—he would just start over each time he'd lost track—and by the time they entered the room, he was firmly ensconced in his seat once more. He wasn't about to let them know that he'd been shaken.

They fanned out in front of him, with Statura, Ematt, and his mother standing at the center of the half-circle. At the sight of their solemn expressions, he glanced at his mother. She inclined her head, just barely, her countenance unchanging.

"Kylo Ren," Statura said, his voice and his expression giving nothing away. "Though there were several amongst us who felt that your grievous acts against the Republic and the Resistance should merit nothing less than the fullest trial and exploration of your misdeeds and the appropriate punishments therein, we were unable to discount the importance of your actions in the death of Supreme Leader Snoke or your following submission to Commander Dameron and Finn."

Kylo looked at Leia then, his desire to know her response outweighing his annoyance at the word "submission." Her face had relaxed slightly, though it still retained its somber appearance as Statura continued to speak.

"Due to your actions as of late, we have decided that you will be fitted with a tracker and confined to the base, under guard, until further notice," Statura said. "If you cooperate with us to disband what remains of the First Order, we may review your punishment."

Kylo said nothing. How could he? He really had expected that they would want to do him in, that even killing Snoke wouldn't be enough to sway them, but it appeared that he was wrong.

Statura, Ematt, and the other officers swept out of the room, leaving him alone with his mother. She leaned up against the edge of her desk, her hands clasped in front of her as she surveyed him. He let her, head bowed slightly, trying to ignore the lump that settled in his throat as she looked him over.

"The guard is as much for your protection as everyone else's," Leia said eventually. "Commander Dameron and Finn have agreed to serve in those roles, provided they aren't called away for other duties." There was silence for a moment. "Admiral Statura and the others only agreed to let you off as lightly as they did because I told them that I would be addressing some of your past offenses."

"Like what?" Kylo asked, lifting his head. "The fact that I killed my father?" The lump in his throat increased in size, but he swallowed anyway, trying to dispel the feelings that the question drew out.

Leia paled slightly, though her eyes narrowed. "Yes, Ben. That."

"What would you like to do, then?" Kylo asked. "Yell at me? Hurt me? Send me away again so that you don't have to deal with it?"

He didn't miss the way that Leia winced, but her voice was calm when she addressed him again. "No, I don't want to do any of that. What I want to know is _why_."

"Why?" Kylo asked. "Why did I kill him?"

"No, Ben," Leia said. "Why did you do any of it? Why did you leave? Why did you let go of everything that you had with us and turn to a man bent on destroying everything we stand for?"

"Why not?" Kylo hissed. " _Why not?_ You were all so intent on turning me into exactly what you wanted that none of you stopped to ask if it was what I wanted too." Leia's eyes had widened, but he was unable to stop himself from continuing. "I'm not Light like you, Mother.  Whatever goodness there is—was—in me is equally matched by darkness. I was never going to be a Jedi in the way that your brother wanted me to be. I was never going to be what everyone expected from the child of war heroes Leia Organa and Han Solo."

"So you just left?" Leia asked. "How could you do that, Ben?"

"There was no place for me here," Kylo said. "Not as I am."

"You didn't have to become what you are," Leia said.  "There were other ways, other paths you could have taken."

"Were there?" Kylo asked. "Really? From what I recall, I was only offered the one." He sat back in his chair and crossed his arms. "Do it, Mother. Send me away. Let someone else deal with the problem."

"I'm not going to do that," Leia said.

Kylo laughed, the sound colored with derision. "Why not? It's what you do."

"Not anymore," Leia said. "I let you go once, Ben. I'm not going to do that again." Her voice broke as she continued to speak. "I've lost your father. I'm not losing you too, not when I just got you back."

Silence fell over the room, their gazes locked together. For all that words weren't being spoken, Leia was communicating half a lifetime's—half of _his_ lifetime's—worth of feelings and questions, and he couldn't tamp down the part of him that was reaching to answer her. He couldn't tamp down the part of him that was filled with so much regret for his father's death, even as he had baited Leia with it.

That seemed to be his tendency, tempting fate by not allowing those around him to forget all of the wrong he'd done—how could he allow them to forget it when he would never be able to forget it himself?

Eventually, as the emotions slammed over him like tidal waves, he allowed his head to drop. He closed his eyes, his jaw tight as he said, "I'm sorry."

He didn't have to look up to know that Leia's eyes had widened.

"I'm sorry," he whispered again. "I'm so, so sorry. I don't know what I'm doing anymore, Mother. I have no purpose."

He heard her move before he felt her, saw her appear in what little area he could see with his head bowed, and it was a matter of heartbeats before her arms wrapped around him in much the same way as they had when he exited the ship.

"You'll find one," she said, her hand smoothing over his hair, her voice soft. "I'll help you. You're not alone in this, Ben."

If his conversation from earlier with Dameron was anything to go by, she might have been right.

He wasn't entirely sure how he felt about the idea of people wanting to help him because they wanted to help _him_. It was an entirely foreign concept, but not an unwelcome one.

No, it wasn't unwelcome at all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What's the obvious solution to finding out that you didn't do as well on an exam as you'd hoped? Fanfiction. Fanfiction is always the solution.
> 
> (It wasn't bad, it just wasn't as good as I was hoping for).
> 
> I know most people don't go this route with Poe in their fics, but I just really love the idea that he was friends with Ben when they were younger and that he's one of the people who wants to see Ben come back to them. Their conversation was entirely unplanned when I started this chapter, but it seemed right, so it happened. There will be more exploration of their history and their relationship in later chapters, most likely (though this will be a Reylo fic in the end—I know it's not right now, but SLOW. BURN. Just keep repeating those words to yourselves). 
> 
> There's going to be a lot of back-and-forth with Ben/Kylo personality-wise for a while, because snark seems like it would be a logical defense mechanism for him, but coming home means that those walls have to come down every now and then. It's going to be a while before he's anything along the lines of what you could call "open." Things with him and Leia also aren't over by a long shot—he's still got a lot to do to make up for what he's done, but as I've said before, she just wants him home. 
> 
> I've been vaguely plotting out this fic and thus far it looks something along the lines of "Chp 1: Bye-bye Snoke Chp 2: Homecoming Chp 3: Shit hits the fan" and so on. Sometimes my plot outlines are very in-depth and clearly map out every scene of a chapter. This is not one of those times. Part of me is very tempted to title all of their chapters with their tiny outlines (For example, there is a chapter with the plot outline "Bro bonding." It would be hilarious). I need to be stopped.
> 
> Also, I had the idea for a college AU thanks to another AU prompt that I saw (so I sort of rolled them into one) and I'm not entirely sure if I should actually write it and post it, so if you'd be interested, let me know. It wouldn't be going up in place of this one, I'd be working on them both, but I don't want to do it if people don't want to read it.


	4. Chapter 4

Though Dameron and Finn had been assigned as Kylo's guards, they hadn't had much guarding to do in the time since his arrival. Rather than venture out into the complex, where he was sure to encounter plenty of people who would like nothing more than to shoot him with a blaster once or twice (or as many times as possible), he'd stayed holed up in the rooms that he'd been assigned in a near-empty set of barracks. He was fairly sure that his quarters had once belonged to an officer, but he wasn't going to complain about the space, so he didn't bring it up. One of the droids delivered his meals, and whoever had occupied the rooms before him had left behind some holobooks, so he had no real reason to go anywhere.

While he would normally hate having so much time to himself, he'd been taking advantage of it to meditate and think, something that he hadn't been able to do on so deep a level in all the time that he'd been part of the First Order. There, he had always been faced by what he now recognized as fear—fear that Snoke would become aware of his thoughts, see how torn he was, how much regret he carried—but amongst the Resistance, he only felt discomfort in regards to those around him.

It was something that was a surprise to him, really. Anyone else would have lived in fear that an attempt would be made on their life, that they wouldn't live to see another day, but all he felt was the same discomfort that had plagued him for his entire life.

The Resistance was a far cry from the First Order, but once again he was faced by the knowledge that he didn't quite fit where he was, that he wasn't one of them—Finn and Dameron standing armed outside of his door, with the exception of the times when they were relieved by other guards for meals and sleep, served as an excellent reminder of that fact.

He was left alone for the most part. Nobody seemed to expect much from him, and as far as the officers were concerned, as long as he stayed out of trouble he was to be left to his own devices—really, they probably didn't want to think of him unless it was absolutely necessary. He was sure that Dameron and Finn would have stopped him if he tried to go anywhere that was off-limits, but seeing as he hadn't been going anywhere at all, they had no reason to tell him what he couldn't do.

He didn't know if they heard him in the night, if they heard how he woke up gasping for breath, if they could hear the sound of his screams through the walls and door. His sleep was haunted by nightmares, visions of Snoke torturing him for his failures, of the faces of those he'd killed and their begging, pleading for mercy that he never offered. There was no need for the officers of the Resistance to give him a punishment—his death would have been a mercy of its own, as it would have silenced the voices of those whose lives he'd stolen.

Without the First Order surrounding him, without Snoke's presence in the back of his mind, without the bloodlust of his compatriots, there was nothing there to dull the guilt over his actions. There was nothing there to mask the pain, to keep him from feeling the terror associated with every death he'd caused, and the Force seemed to be determined to make him suffer for what he'd done.

It was as much as he deserved, he supposed, but that didn't make it any easier to cope with. The nameless faces were bad enough, but every now and then, the face of Lor San Tekka would appear. Kylo would face him, a man he'd known as a child, and cut him down without a thought for what he was doing. Those few seconds would play on loop in his mind, never ceasing until he woke up and forced them away.

Even worse were the moments when his father's face would appear, when he would hear Han's voice promising to help him, promising to do anything, only for him to stab his father through the heart. He could still feel Han's hand as it rested on his cheek, feel the way that a piece was torn out of his heart as his father fell down, down, down. He could feel the grief in Chewbacca's cry, feel his mother's pain through the Force, feel that he'd destroyed more than one life by way of his actions.

Snoke had intended for that moment to bring him fully to the dark side, to turn him into a Sith and insure that he would never again think of the light, but all it had done was cut him off from that last bit of darkness. He'd fought against it, tried to prove to himself that he'd succeeded in what he meant to do, tried to make it so that his choice hadn't been entirely in vain, to no avail. Killing his father hadn't taken him into the dark. It had only filled him with guilt and pain that he had struggled to mask from Snoke for every following moment he'd remained in the First Order.

All he knew was that Rey could feel him, even if her friends outside the door couldn't hear his pain. Her mind brushed up against his own when they both slept, and he could feel it each time she awoke with his pain running through her, feel her confusion and frustration over her inability to block out the dreams that weren't even hers, and eventually, he gave up on sleep.

He would catch an hour here and there as the days passed, when she was busy and her mental shields were strong. Though it had been her probing into his mind while he was within hers that had formed their bond, he couldn't help but accept responsibility for it. She never would have been in that situation if it weren't for him. She never would have been faced with his nightmares and guilt if it weren't for him.

Thus, it was on him to make sure that he kept it from her so that she wouldn't have to suffer any further at his hand.

His attempts at doing so meant that he was too tired to protest when Dameron entered his quarters just over two weeks after his arrival on the base. He was seated on the floor attempting to meditate when the pilot walked in, and rather than offer up a snarky comment, Kylo cracked one eye open to see who it was before closing it again.

"You look horrible," Dameron said.

"Your observational skills are astounding," Kylo said, his voice dry. "Is there something I can do for you, or am I going to have to attempt to make conversation for an unfortunate amount of time?"

"You're to be escorted to meet with Luke," Dameron said. "He wants to speak with you about something." Kylo raised his eyebrows, his eyes still closed, but that seemed to be enough of a response for Dameron to speak again. "I don't know what it's for. All I was told is that Finn and I are to bring you to see him."

"When?" Kylo asked.

"Now," Dameron said. "I know it's short notice, but we only received the order a few minutes ago."

Kylo opened his eyes and unfolded himself from his meditation position, rising up to tower over the pilot. He couldn't find the strength in himself to argue. "Well, if the great Jedi Master demands it, then he'll have what he wants."

Dameron's eyes widened slightly, and after a moment he stepped aside to allow Kylo to exit the room. Finn stood outside the door, and he fell into step on one side of Kylo, Dameron on the other. Both were armed with blasters, but they weren't trained on the taller man. They seemed to be more concerned with the Resistance fighters who were shooting Kylo what couldn't be described as anything less than death glares as they walked through the corridors.

He didn't challenge them, didn't offer up a glare of his own. Instead, he kept his gaze straight ahead, not making any eye contact with those who looked as though they would like nothing more than to kill him then and there. He'd already given them enough reason to want him dead, and he wasn't about to give them any more.

He was eventually escorted into a small room furnished with nothing but a table and four chairs. Finn and Dameron left him there and went to wait outside,  just as they did when he was in his own rooms. He paced back and forth, unable to sit, and only stopped when he felt two familiar presences in the Force drawing nearer.

The warmth that was Rey stayed outside, while the other drew closer until the door opened and Luke stepped into the room. The older man's gaze was heavy, laden with emotions that Kylo didn't dare identify, and eventually, he sighed.

"You aren't sleeping," he said. "Are you?"

"I don't see how that's any concern of yours," Kylo said. Luke might have been right, but that didn't mean that he had to admit it. "What do you want?"

"Though I know you tried your best to forget it, you're still my nephew. I just want to talk to you," Luke said. "Is that really so hard to believe?"

"Why wouldn't it be?" Kylo asked.

Luke nodded, sadness evident in his expression. "I suppose you're right, Ben. Or should I call you Kylo Ren now?" He sank down onto a chair.

Kylo's chest tightened, the question carrying more weight than he wanted to admit. The truth was, he didn't know the answer. He'd told Snoke that his name was Ben, but he didn't _feel_ like Ben Solo. He didn't really know who Ben Solo was, and he certainly didn't know well enough to lay claim to the name once again. Leia used it, but he had always been Ben to her—how, he didn't know, but he wasn't going to take that away from her.

"I don't care," he said eventually.

"Tell me when you decide," Luke said. He paused, his gaze searching Kylo's face. "I asked that you be brought here so that I could make you an offer."

"An offer?" Kylo asked, unable to help himself as he sat down across the table from Luke.

Luke nodded. "I'd like for you to train with me again."

Kylo couldn't hide his shock. He could feel it spreading across his features, feel the way that his eyes widened, and it took him a moment to collect himself. "What?"

"I meant exactly what I said," Luke said. "It wouldn't be Jedi training, but I think it would do you some good. It might help you with those Force nightmares of yours." Kylo couldn't do anything but stare, and Luke smiled slightly. "You would join Rey in her exercises, and Finn too on those occasions that he trains with us, though you wouldn't be expected to commit yourself to the Jedi code."

"Why would you ask this of me?" Kylo asked.

 _I destroyed everything you worked so hard for_ was the second half of that statement, but he couldn't bring himself to say it. Luke seemed to know, though, and the smile faded from his face before he sighed.

"I failed you in more ways than one when you were a Padawan," he said. "I should have tried harder, done more, spent more time determining what you needed instead of giving you restrictions. You were the most gifted youngling at the Academy, and I dwelled too much on my fear of your descent into darkness and not enough on your potential for good." He shook his head. "The Jedi have never been ones to address emotion well. They failed my father in that regard, and though I told myself I wouldn't, I allowed myself to follow in their footsteps."

"You couldn't treat me differently than the others," Kylo said. "It would have been favoritism."

"Would it, though?" Luke asked. "It seems to be a trait of the Skywalkers that we be tempted to go where we should not. I knew that, and I should have paid more attention to it than I did, and for that I'm sorry."

"You should be blaming me," Kylo bit out. "You aren't supposed to forgive me. None of you should. The things I've done are unforgivable."

"I suppose your nightmares are reminding you of that," Luke said. "Yes, perhaps you're right. You've done things that no one should ever do, and yet... And yet, your mother and I have to forgive you, just as I had to forgive our father."

"You don't _have_ to do anything," Kylo said. "Not anymore."

"Don't we?" Luke asked. "You're still family, even if you've done terrible things." He shrugged when Kylo looked at him, the gesture so _normal_ that Kylo couldn't help but be reminded of the fact that the last Jedi Master had once been a farm boy on Tatooine. "It wasn't until you were gone that we realized how much wrong we'd done."

A lump formed in Kylo's throat, and he swallowed hard. They'd wronged him, yes, but he'd wronged them in turn, failed them in so many more ways than they'd ever failed him. To have them allow him to come back, allow him to resume training again even if he would never be a true Jedi... He didn't deserve it, none of it, and he wouldn't let them waste themselves on him.

He opened his mouth to tell Luke as much, only to shut it again. His exhaustion was doing something to him, making him freer with his thoughts than he'd been in years, but there were some lines that couldn't be crossed, and admitting how ashamed he was of his choices to the master—the uncle—that he'd betrayed was one of them.

"You don't have to tell me anything now," Luke said, seeming to recognize that Kylo couldn't formulate a proper response. "The offer is open, and you'll be welcome to join us if and when you choose to take it." He rose from his seat. "I know it can be difficult to reinsert yourself into a life that doesn't feel like yours anymore. I'll understand if you choose not to."

He didn't leave Kylo time to respond before he left the room. His presence lingered outside the door for a few moments before it grew fainter, Rey's fading out along with it. Not long after that, the door opened again to allow Finn and Dameron inside.

"Would you like to remain here, or shall we escort you back to your quarters?" Dameron asked.

"I'll be going back," Kylo said.

The pilot and the ex-Stormtrooper nodded. They flanked him once again as they went back to his quarters, and he could feel them trade places with another pair once he was safely ensconced within his rooms.

Though a part of him said that he should meditate and attempt to come to a decision on Luke's offer, he instead reached for a holobook and settled himself on the padded bench that ran the length of one of the walls. The first room in the set of three was probably meant to function as a living space, but it was sparsely furnished, and he hadn't bothered to ask for any furniture beyond what had been provided for him. The fact that he had the rooms that he did was a miracle enough.

He'd been reading for a while when there was a knock at the door, and with a wave of his hand, it slid open. He set the holobook aside as Leia entered the room, glancing around as if to see what he'd chosen to surround himself with.

"May I sit?" she asked after a moment.

He shrugged. "Sure."

She settled into a spot a reasonable distance along the bench from him—not so close that he felt trapped, but not so far away that it seemed like she wanted to stay away from him either. They sat in silence for a while before she spoke.

"Luke told me what he talked to you about."

"Of course he did," Kylo said. "I expect you're here to tell me to take him up on the offer?"

Leia shook her head. "No, Ben. I'm here to tell you that I won't be upset if you decide that you don't want to. You have to make your own choices and decide what's right for you, and if training with Luke isn't one of those things, I'll understand." He stared at her, and she reached out to lay her hand over his. "I don't want you to do anything because you think that I expect you to do it. I want you to do it because you want to, because it feels like the right decision."

"You never felt that way before," Kylo muttered.

"No, I didn't, and I should have," she said. "I'm not going to force you into anything again, Ben. What you'll do during your time here is going to be your decision, not anyone else's."

"As long as it falls within the bounds of my restrictions," Kylo said.

"Admiral Statura wasn't lying to you when he said that your punishment may be reviewed," Leia said. "I highly doubt that you're going to be trapped here forever." He didn't say anything, and she squeezed her fingers around his for a moment. "Are you having trouble sleeping?"

"Must everyone ask me that?" Kylo asked.

"We only ask because we worry about you," Leia said. "I'm sure one of the medical droids could give you something to help."

"I don't need anything," Kylo said. "I'm fine."

He wasn't fine, not at all, but the nightmares and sleep deprivation were his true punishment for everything that he'd done, and he wasn't going to let the medication that a medical droid could give him strip him of his penance. He had to suffer, just as he'd forced so many other people to, and he wasn't going to run away from it just because.

No, he was going to face it, and do his best to keep it from affecting Rey, and deal with the consequences as they came.

Leia was looking at him skeptically, but she didn't say anything to contradict him. Instead, she patted his hand and then stood up. "Luke awaits your decision, but neither of us will be angry if you say no."

With that, she left him there, the holobook he'd been reading abandoned on the bench beside him as he attempted to reason through what had just happened.

He wasn't sure how he felt about his mother's newfound insistence that he be able to make his own choices, but he couldn't say he minded it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I like this chapter. I hope you guys like it too.
> 
> I probably won't be updating again until the end of the week/the weekend, as I've got two exams and a job interview this week and I need to stay focused on them. That's not to say that I won't end up writing a one-shot or two (anything can happen), but I don't foresee a new chapter for this story until the week is pretty much over. School has to come first.
> 
> Though I had it outlined before it happened, this chapter was pretty much born out of the fact that I visited my high school on Friday and had a talk with the teacher who pretty much kept me from going over the edge from sophomore year on, and I'm very much emotionally compromised by the fact that he told me how proud he was of how far I've come since then. He's not wrong, I have come a very long way, but looking back on how much I hated myself and everything around me and how angry and scared and guilty and ashamed I was, it's almost impossible for me to believe that things have changed so much even though I've been the one living all of it. I certainly wouldn't have been able to do it without him there to remind me that I wasn't beyond hope every step of the way.
> 
> (If you want to know why I have a pretty easy time getting inside of Kylo Ren's head in this story and writing his exchanges with Leia (and Luke), it's because their relationships very much parallel the relationship that I had with this teacher through most of high school. It's certainly not the same, but the emotions are very similar, and I take full advantage of the fact that I have that in my arsenal when I write.)


	5. Chapter 5

Much as he knew that his mother and Luke wanted it, much as it would have given him an opportunity to venture out and begin to form himself a life as something other than _Kylo Ren, destroyer of all things the Resistance stands for_ , Kylo couldn't bring himself to accept Luke's offer in the weeks following their meeting.

He could feel Rey reaching out towards him through the Force every once in a while, something that he was sure Luke had put her up to. Her hesitance was plain, and he never responded to her. Whether or not she'd agreed that he could train with her was irrelevant—she was clearly uncomfortable with the idea of having any real contact with him, and he couldn't blame her.

His restrictions had been reduced, the officers coming to the conclusion that he wasn't doing anything that would hurt anybody. The guard placed on him had been reduced to one person, and they no longer followed him everywhere he went. He still wasn't allowed outside of the main complex of the base, so there were no walks through the forest surrounding them, but he could venture out to the base library on his own if he wished—that is, he could venture out as long as he kept his guard (whether it was Dameron or Finn, or someone else) informed of his whereabouts.

Dameron had invited Kylo to play sabacc with him and Finn a few times—both men were bored with guard duty, and Kylo was excellent at the game, so it gave them a good way to pass the time. He'd been hesitant at first, unsure of their motivation, but when it became clear that they just wanted to have something to do with themselves, he hadn't been able to find a reason to abstain from participating.

He'd spent so much time with the pair, in fact, that he was starting to think of Dameron as Poe. Yes, it was the man's name, but there was a certain level of familiarity that went along with using it, and Kylo wasn't entirely sure how he felt about it. They still weren't friends. Though Poe never lashed out at Kylo, never brought up the way that he'd been tortured, it was clear that he remembered it. Kylo could see it flash across Poe's eyes each time the pilot looked at the taller man, but there was never any mention made of it.

In some ways, it would've been easier if Poe had just yelled or done _something_. The quiet acceptance that he and Finn displayed in Kylo's presence was nothing short of uncomfortable, especially when they laughed with one another and fell silent when they remembered he was there.

He still wasn't sleeping, which didn't help matters. Sometimes he would feel anger welling within him, but he was too tired to react to anything. His nerves were constantly on edge, but each time he would normally explode would instead result in a few hours' sleep. The exhaustion began to wear on him, and one afternoon, Poe caught him on his return from the library.

"Would you care to spar?" the pilot asked. Kylo glanced at him, too tired to voice the question within his head, and Poe shrugged. "Finn and I like to practice together, and I thought it might help you, what with the—"

"The fact that I don't sleep?" Kylo asked. The pilot nodded, and Kylo shook his head. "I don't think that's a good idea, though it would probably be a much fairer fight than it would be otherwise, given my current condition."

"We could take you," Poe said.

"One day," Kylo said. "Once I've got... _things_ under control, then we'll fight." He blinked slowly. "It would be good for both of you to take some of your anger out on me, I think."

He cursed himself a moment later, cursed the way that his exhaustion had removed the filter from his speech. Despite his attempts to make it otherwise, over the past weeks he'd been saying a lot of things that he would never dare utter aloud. Unsurprisingly, Poe stared at him, only to nod once a moment later.

"You're probably right," Poe said. "You have a lot to answer for."

"I know," Kylo said. He rubbed his eyes, trying to ignore the throbbing pressure that was beginning to build at his temples.

"Go sleep," Poe said. "We'll talk about sparring once you don't look half-dead."

Kylo let himself into his quarters, doing his best to ignore the emotion—was it concern?—that filled Poe's command. Yes, they had been friends once, but that was a long time ago, back before they'd been on opposite sides of a war that seemed never-ending, before Kylo had made choices that he would never truly be able to atone for. It seemed wrong for the pilot to care. No one should care, least of all the people he'd hurt directly.

He fell into a fitful sleep, unable to truly rest with the horrors that his mind presented him with each time he closed his eyes. Some time after his departure from consciousness, he thought he heard Leia's voice and felt her hand stroking his hair, but his dream-addled brain simply wrote it off as another part of his nightmares.

Rey's presence was there in the back of his mind, but she offered him nothing. Her mental shields were up, blocking him from slipping into whatever it was she was doing, but she was there. Always, she was there. No matter how many shields either of them put up, they couldn't hide their existence from one another.

Quite frankly, he wasn't sure it would be right to hide his presence from her. His emotions and his nightmares, sure, but the simple fact that he existed? No, better for her that she knew where he was, that she knew he wasn't going to cause her any harm, than for her to know nothing at all.

He awoke some time after it had gotten dark. It was the longest he'd managed to sleep since arriving at the base, but he didn't feel particularly rested. Instead, he felt pain ripping through him, felt his father's hand pressed against his cheek, and before he knew it, he was on his feet and stumbling out of his quarters.

Poe stood outside the door—he had the evening off most days, but he was always on guard for a few hours during the night. His hand caught Kylo's sleeve as the taller man went past, and while the gesture probably would've resulted in him losing a hand if he'd tried it two years before, all it did then was make Kylo turn to look at him.

"Where are you going?" Poe asked.

"I don't know," Kylo said, his voice hoarse. "For a walk."

"Will you be all right by yourself?" Poe asked.

This time, there was no mistaking it—it was concern in the pilot's voice, concern that Kylo was positive he didn't deserve. He nodded, conscious of how crazed he must have looked in that moment, and did his best to steady his voice when he replied.

"I'll be fine," he said. "I won't leave. I need to clear my head."

"If you're sure," Poe said.

"I am," Kylo said.

With that, he was off, half-stumbling along the corridor until he reached the door that led outside of the building. The base was quiet when he went outside, everyone asleep with the exception of a few guards. He could feel them watching him as he walked past, following the well-worn paths between the buildings.

The sky was clear above him where it wasn't obscured by tree branches, stars dotting the inky blackness with pinpoints of light. When he reached a clearing that seemed to be far enough away from the center of the base (though still within its walls), he sank to the ground and stared upward.

Somewhere out there, light years away, on a faraway planet, the First Order was likely rebuilding. Hux hadn't been taken during the confrontation that resulted in Snoke's death, and Phasma was still alive too. They wouldn't let defeat force them to give up their crusade, even if that defeat involved the death of their leader. No, they would be training more Stormtroopers, rebuilding their fleet and their forces, and when they were strong enough, they would strike again.

They would strike again, and he wouldn't be able to do anything. He had no lightsaber, no weapon, nothing beyond his ability to use the Force, and that had been shaky at best as of late. In trying to cope with his nightmares, he'd somehow lost his ability to reach directly into the Force without thought. Instead, he had to focus, think very clearly about whatever it was that he wanted, and he was lucky if it worked half the time.

Part of him missed the darkness, missed the power that it had given him, missed how easy it had been to take it and use it, but another part of him—the part of him that had reacted when his mother was almost killed, the part that had killed Snoke, the part that hadn't been able to lash out at those around him—said that he was better off without it.

How that was possible, he wasn't sure. Yes, the Resistance hadn't killed him, and they'd lightened his restrictions, but they still didn't trust him.

They shouldn't trust him.

It was then that he became aware of something tracing its way down his cheeks. He wiped away the tears with a shaking hand and stared at the liquid on his fingers, gleaming in the starlight, before he caught sight of a shadowy figure lurking in the trees.

"Uncle Chewie?" he choked out.

Chewbacca stepped forward then, hand resting on his blaster. It was the first Kylo had seen of him since the day he'd returned, and the anger and grief in the Wookiee's eyes was enough to make Kylo shrink back. Chewie didn't say anything, his gaze locked with Kylo's, and it wasn't until Kylo struggled to his feet that Chewie took a step forward.

"I know you're mad at me," Kylo said, his voice rough. "You should be. Everyone should be." He laughed, the sound bitter. "I don't know why I'm not dead yet."

Chewie took another step forward, but he still didn't say anything. Kylo raked his hands through his hair, turning his gaze to the sky.

"I can't do anything right," Kylo said. "All I do is make the wrong choices, hurt the people around me, hurt _myself_..." He closed his eyes for a moment. "Don't forgive me. You can't forgive me, because if you forgive me..."

Chewie made a questioning sound then, taking another step forward. His hand fell off of his blaster, and he watched as Kylo began to pace back and forth.

"All I want to do is take it back," Kylo said, tears falling from his eyes once again. "I shut my eyes and I see it happen over and over again, see myself kill my own father, see him fall, and all I want to do is change it, fix it, but I can't. I can't, I can't, I can't, and I'm _sorry_."

His voice broke on the last word, and he covered his face with his hands, his entire body shaking. A moment later, warmth surrounded him, and he curled into Chewbacca's embrace without a second thought, apologies falling from his lips. For a moment, he was six years old again, Uncle Chewie comforting him after he fell and hurt himself, Han there in the background telling him that he'd be just fine, that was what Solos did, they picked themselves up and carried on, and then he was back in the clearing once again, Chewie speaking words of comfort in Shyriiwook.

"I can't do it, Uncle Chewie," Kylo said, his voice muffled by Chewbacca's fur. "I don't know how to atone for what I've done. I don't know if it's even possible for me to begin to try."

Chewie patted his back, speaking so quickly that Kylo nearly missed half of it. His Shyriiwook skills were rusty after years away, but he managed to get enough of it to shake his head.

"I'm not a good person," he said. "I know you think I am, but I'm not. Look at what I did. Look at _everything_ I've done."

Chewie voiced a protest, tugging Kylo with him to sit underneath one of the trees. Kylo didn't respond until after they were settled.

"I may not be a bad person, though I disagree with that assessment, but I'm certainly not a good one," Kylo said. Chewie barked out a response that was as much laughter as anything else, and Kylo shook his head. "He was a much better person than I am."

They were silent for a while after that, both watching the stars overhead. Eventually, Kylo shook his head. He felt drained, felt a weight on his bones that left him with nothing but weariness, and yet he couldn't help the statement that followed.

"I really am sorry, Uncle Chewie. I know it doesn't fix anything, but I am."

His eyelids were growing heavy then, and his head dropped to Chewie's shoulder. Chewie embraced him once again, the gesture an unspoken acceptance of his apology, and the last thing that he heard before he fell into unconsciousness was Chewie's voice telling him _sleep, Ben. Sleep._ Once again, he was six years old, curled up in his bunk on the _Falcon,_ falling asleep after Han and Chewie had finished reading to him.

That moment in the clearing was the first since his return where the name felt like it belonged to him rather than someone else.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So you know how I said last night that I wasn't going to be updating again until the end of the week? Yeah, about that...
> 
> I was genuinely intending to wait that long, but I woke up five hours before I needed to be at class today, my favorite barista wasn't at the coffee shop that I spend all of my free time in because she had today off (which I forgot about), someone took my usual seat by the counter so I couldn't even talk to the other baristas who were working, and none of my friends amongst the regulars came in while I was there, so I actually spent two hours doing work before class today instead of goofing off like I usually do and I thus had free time to write this evening (and I figured that some sort of productivity was better than just watching television all night, so here we are).
> 
> (That coffee shop is the reason why I can't write a Reylo coffee shop AU. I want to desperately, but every time I try, Kylo Ren turns into my favorite snarky British PhD student and everyone else gets cast as someone else I know and it just doesn't work. One of these days it'll happen, but not yet.)
> 
> This chapter's kind of a mess, but hey. I'll go back and edit it later (maybe, if I'm not too lazy, which I probably am).
> 
> Also, ten points to whoever can guess what major change is coming in the next chapter (although realistically there are several, so you have a lot of chances to get this right). Will these points actually get you anything? Probably not, but at least there's bragging rights.


	6. Chapter 6

In the weeks following his breakdown in front of Chewie, things became easier for Kylo (Or was it Ben? He really wasn’t sure anymore). Most of the base still despised him, but the Wookiee wasn’t avoiding him any longer. They played holochess, they talked about Chewie’s latest projects, and through it all, the Wookiee avoided any mention of Han unless Kylo brought him up first.

It was the most comfortable Kylo could remember being around anyone in years, and in some ways, it seemed that his family was the most intact it had been since long before he’d defected—as intact as it could be without Han there to fill in the gaps, anyway. Kylo felt his absence with every passing moment, but there was little he could do about it.

He knew that everyone else felt it too, felt how everything seemed just a little bit _off_ , but they seemed to recognize that he felt more guilt on his own than they could ever hope to incite within him, and they never tried to make it worse intentionally. If anything, their refusal to attack him for it only increased the burden he bore, and he couldn’t begrudge them that.

The only ones who would attack him were Poe and Finn, and he’d come to look forward to the time that they spent in the training rooms, sparring hand-to-hand for what sometimes became hours (They might have trusted him to be on his own sometimes, but nobody seemed to trust him with any sort of weapon, a choice he couldn’t blame them for).

For all that he’d been kind to Kylo since the moment when everything had changed—as kind as a person could be, anyway—Poe never hesitated to take out his anger and displeasure on the taller man. His fury was reserved for the training room, for the fights they engaged in, but it was there, and Kylo couldn’t fault him for it. After everything that he’d done to the pilot, it was only fair that Poe would want to make him answer for it.

The fighting helped with the guilt, at least for a little while. While Kylo was sure that he deserved more than the blows that Poe managed to land on him, it helped to know that someone got the chance to express whatever animosity they had towards him. He couldn’t atone for what he’d done, not really, but he could make sure that those around him had the chance to express how they really felt.

Finn was a different story. He fought Kylo with a skill that only Stormtroopers possessed. It wasn’t the same as fighting a Knight of Ren, or Rey—both were much better matched to Kylo—but Finn landed more blows than Poe ever did. It was unsurprising, given Finn’s status as one of the top Stormtrooper cadets before he’d fled. His hits weren’t filled with emotion, though, something that puzzled Kylo more than anything else. Finn had as much reason to be angry with him as anyone, maybe even more, after how long it took him to regain the ability to walk again, but he didn’t seem to want retribution in the way that Poe did.

No, instead he watched Kylo, his expression one of quiet calculation. Kylo knew the ex-Stormtrooper wasn’t normally so quiet—he’d heard enough of the running dialogue between Poe and Finn, and Rey if she was present, to know what was normal—but Finn seemed to be determined to get his measure.

 “It’s nothing personal, you know,” Poe said one evening as they were finishing up in the training room, Finn already having left them behind to go have dinner with Rey.

“What?” Kylo asked, removing the wraps from his knuckles.

“This,” Poe said, gesturing around the room. “And everyone, really.” Kylo didn’t say anything, and Poe shrugged. “You hurt a lot of people, and I know that it wasn’t really you—”

“It was,” Kylo said. “To say it wasn’t would be unfair. Continue, though.”

Poe sighed. “It wasn’t you, B—Kylo. Not entirely.”

“You can call me Ben,” Kylo said. “If that’s how you think of me.” He pinched the bridge of his nose with his fingers, scrunching his face up for a moment before he shook his head. “I don’t really know what the right name is any longer, and it’s as good a name as any, I suppose.”

“That’s my point,” Poe said. Kylo looked at him with raised eyebrows, causing him to offer up a slight smile. “You’ve been Ben, and you’ve been Kylo, and whoever it is that you really are probably falls somewhere in the middle. Do you really mean to tell me that you would’ve done what you have if it hadn’t been for that—that—”

“Snoke?” Kylo asked. Poe nodded, and Kylo lifted his shoulders in a single shrug. “I don’t know. What’s done is done.”

“That’s true,” Poe said. “And I think you’ll find that once people on this base—in this galaxy—realize that the man who was the creature of their nightmares is nothing more than just a man, there won’t be so much anger anymore.”

“Then what’s this?” Kylo asked, gesturing between himself and the pilot. “Why are we fighting every day, if not to let you express your anger?”

“I can’t speak for Finn, but every time I land a hit, you feel a little bit less like a monster and a little bit more like a human being,” Poe said. He took a step forward and clapped Kylo on the shoulder before he started out of the room, throwing one last statement over his shoulder as he left. “Every blow feels like I’m beating what made you into Kylo Ren and remembering what it was to be friends with Ben Solo, whoever he is now.”

The door swung shut behind him. Kylo swallowed hard, fighting past the lump that formed in his throat at Poe’s words, and attempted to compose himself before he left the room.

He wasn’t used to the level of emotional turmoil that he’d been faced with ever since his return to the Resistance (if return was even the right word). Yes, he’d been a mess when he was with the First Order, unable to get a grip on the tendrils of compassion and empathy that wound their way around the very core of his being, but there he’d been able to hide behind his pain and anger.

With the Resistance, with his mother and uncle and Poe, he just felt unstable. He wasn’t Kylo Ren anymore, that much was true, but he also didn’t know what he’d become either. It wasn’t as simple as saying that he had once again become Ben Solo, because who Ben Solo had been and whoever it was that he’d turned into weren’t the same person.

They could have been, once, if things had been different, but they weren’t, and there wasn’t anything he could do about it.

The behavior of those around him didn’t help matters as he made his way through the compound back to his quarters. Some wouldn’t look at him, while others would openly meet his gaze with a challenge in their eyes, but all of them exuded the same air of mixed hatred and fear. He didn’t doubt that if he weren’t Leia’s son, if Luke weren’t his uncle, if Poe and Finn were shunning him, the Resistance fighters would be jumping on him.

As it stood, his connections could only protect him from the physical threats that faced him. They couldn’t do a thing to protect him from his racing thoughts and internal conflict, from the emotions that rose within him every time someone looked at him as though he were the worst thing they would ever see.

He went into the ‘fresher long enough to shower once he was back in his quarters, had the meal that one of the droids brought for him, and then settled cross-legged on the floor in a pair of threadbare pants. Focused on his breathing, he closed his eyes and attempted to settle into his meditation. He hadn’t gotten any better at coping with his Force nightmares, and for Rey’s sake, he needed to stay awake through the night.

She’d stopped testing their bond, stopped trying to reach out to him, and he didn’t know whether to be grateful for it or saddened by the absence of her attempts. It would have been wrong to say that she wasn’t there anymore—she was always there in the back of his mind, a small presence that wasn’t his and yet wasn’t foreign enough to cause him discomfort—but even her tentative movements had ceased.

He knew the distance was probably more her doing than Luke’s, knew that he made her uncomfortable simply by existing, but sometimes he missed the way that she attempted to make contact with him, however hesitant it might have been. There was something about knowing that she was there, knowing that she wasn’t ignoring the fact that they’d become connected, that had made him feel a little better. Without it, he just felt even more lost.

Hard as he tried—or didn’t try, it was hard to say—he couldn’t seem to settle his mind enough to truly meditate. Images flashed through his consciousness, snapshots in time of all the people he’d hurt and pain he’d caused, and he tried to count his breaths in an attempt to keep from paying attention to the memories, only to draw them further forward.

He didn’t know how long he’d been sitting there when a pounding on his door broke him out of whatever meditative trance he’d managed to sink into. Letting out a heavy breath, he rose to his feet and crossed the room. He raked his hand through his hair as he opened the door, ready to argue with whoever stood on the other side, only to stop when he saw Rey.

She stood there with her arms crossed, her hair falling loose around her face and her eyes flashing with annoyance. He couldn’t do anything but stare at her, too stunned by the combination of softness and fury that was the young woman in front of him. As he watched, she pushed past him into the room, only to whirl around to face him.

“You’re the absolute _worst_ , you know that?” she said. He didn’t say anything, and she narrowed her eyes. “You have to stop.”

“Stop what?” he asked, his voice hoarse.

“Thinking,” she said. “Your mind is always running away with you, and I know that you’ve tried to block it from me—I can tell, don’t give me that look—but in all honesty, you’re fracking terrible at it, and I haven’t been able to sleep for longer than three hours since you got here because I keep getting woken up by memories that aren’t even mine.”

Her voice grew more heated as she spoke, and when she finished, he ran his hand through his hair again.

“Sorry.”

Once again, her eyes flashed, and he resisted the urge to take a step backward. “Apologies don’t help me get any sleep, Ren, so save them, would you?”

“I don’t know what you want me to do,” he said.

The corner of her mouth quirked up then into a half-smile, and her tone was wry when she replied. “Looks like I’m not the one who needs a teacher now.”

His eyes widened, and the small laugh that came from her was like a knife slicing through the string of memories that were still forcing their way to the edges of his mind. She reached out and took his hand, and he could’ve sworn that something crackled between them as their skin made contact.

( _Of course it did, you idiot,_ he would think later, _the Force, it’s the Force_ , but that thought didn’t cross his mind then.)

She pulled him to the center of the room where he’d been before she arrived, and with a gentle pressure on his shoulders, she pushed him down to the floor. As he looked at her in confusion, she stepped around him to sit down with her back to his, the fabric of her nightshirt brushing against his spine.

“I don’t understand,” he said.

“You’re going to stop trying to block me out, because it clearly isn’t doing either one of us any good, and we’re going to meditate,” Rey said, her voice so even that he could tell she’d already begun to settle herself. “You can’t keep me out of your mind, so we’re going to work on dealing with it so that the both of us can have at least vaguely normal sleep patterns.”

“But—”

He could feel her shake her head. “No buts.”

The moment she sank into her meditation, he could tell. The slight movement of her back against his was perfectly rhythmic, and the sound of her breathing in the quiet room gave him something to match his own breath to. He closed his eyes and settled his hands on his knees, following her movements until he was firmly ensconced within his own mind.

He could feel her there, feel the way she reached for every bad memory that tried to make itself known to him so that she could know it and understand it, and though it should have felt like an intrusion, it didn’t. She wasn’t keeping the memories from him, as she always released them when she was finished with her inspection, but the way that she processed them gave him a way to guide his own thoughts.

Rather than flinch at all of the horrors that she was witnessing secondhand, she simply took them in and let them go. She didn’t even falter at the sight of her own face within his mind. Instead, she took the memory of terror that accompanied it, terror at her realization of his greatest weakness, and smoothed out the edges, only to send a memory his way.

He recognized the feeling, recognized the subtle mix of horror and longing that she had pushed in his direction, and he didn’t need her to send him his own reflection to know that she’d felt the temptation of the darkness when they’d fought in the woods on Starkiller. The anger that had filled her was anger that he understood, anger that made sense, because he’d felt it too.

His heartbeat rose in his chest, and she seemed to know, for she started sending him other thoughts then, memories of good things. There was a morning on Jakku where she’d seen the most beautiful sunrise of her life, the way she’d felt when she first set foot on Takodana and saw more water and greenery than she could remember, how happy she’d been when Finn awoke after Starkiller, and so much more.

He didn’t even notice when she started drawing out his own memories, the thoughts that he’d kept locked up for so long for fear of weakness. She found his first memory of flight in the Millennium Falcon and brought it out, and then the first time he’d beaten Chewie at holochess, and everything else she could reach.

His mind was so filled with the quiet happiness that had appeared every now and then in his childhood that he didn’t even notice when she stood up and left the room.

He didn’t sleep that night, but somehow he felt more rested the following morning than he had in years.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two updates on two stories in one day. Shocking. (The other one being _darling, so it goes_ which is my new coffee shop AU for those who are interested).
> 
> My apologies for how long it took me to get this update out (almost a month? What?). I have to be in the right head space to write this story properly, and I was a little too wrapped up in my own inner monologue for a while there to be able to capture that of our favorite Skywalker-Organa-Solo in the way I most prefer, so I did what I do best: I started another story, I wrote fluffy one-shots ( _this year's love_ has gotten several updates recently), and I procrastinated everything I should've been doing by coming up with personal projects (it took me all of spring break to paint my room between the cleaning and the painting).
> 
> But hey, if you guessed that Rey showing up would be the twist here, you're right. The other one was that he's not stopping people who aren't Leia from calling him Ben. We've officially reached the territory of the plot laid out by _guard your hope with your life_ , though this story won't be an exact replica of that.
> 
> The news that is both fun and not-so-fun: the semester is over in a month and a half, which means that there's a month and a half until I'll have two weeks to do nothing but fun stuff (aka write and try to spend some time outside), but there's also only about a month until I have to devote all my time to finals prep, and about two months until summer semester starts and I return to hell. Oh well. I'll try to get as much of this story done as I can before I start summer classes, but no promises.


	7. Chapter 7

Somehow, without his notice, several months had passed since Kylo’s defection from the First Order. Time wasn’t something that he’d been paying attention to—so many of the days had blurred together in the beginning that he didn’t know how many there had been. It wasn’t until one day when he was walking with Poe to their usual training room—Finn was training with Luke and Rey that day—that the pilot made any comment on it.

“It’s been three months, give or take a few days,” Poe said, taking note of the tiny crease between Kylo’s eyebrows at the reduced number of glares sent in his direction as they went. “You’ve been here three months, and nobody’s died yet, or at least, nobody’s died because of you. They’re getting used to the fact that you’re not going anywhere.”

“Has it really been that long?” Kylo asked.

“You really didn’t know?” Poe asked.

Kylo shook his head. “I lost count a long time ago.”

“Understandably,” Poe said. He glanced around, and upon confirming that the corridor was empty, turned his attention back to Kylo. “There’s news.”

“What now?” Kylo asked, opening the door to the training room. “More of the same?”

“Worse,” Poe said, following Kylo inside. “You know how I’ve been telling you that the scouts are saying that things are a mess?”

“The death of a Supreme Leader does tend to disrupt an organization,” Kylo said, his voice dry.

“Well, they aren’t disrupted anymore,” Poe said. “At least, not like they used to be.” He began to wrap his knuckles, shaking his head. After a moment, he looked up at Kylo, his expression serious. “There’s someone new at the helm.”

The edges of Kylo’s vision reddened as anger passed through him. _He_ was supposed to be the one to topple Snoke and take over the First Order. It was _his_ destiny to become the Supreme Leader, to rule over the mightiest force the galaxy had ever seen, to prove to everyone that he was so much more than they’d ever thought.

The anger halted when there was a gentle brush at the edge of his mind, fury stopped in its tracks by the warmth that was Rey—light wasn’t the right word, for the core of her being was wrapped in both light and darkness, tangled threads that prevented her from ever truly belonging to one side or another. It was something that they had in common, that inability to belong, but she handled it much better than he ever did.

She didn’t say anything to him, didn’t engage beyond the subtle pressure of her mind against his, and as soon as he got himself under control and his anger began to subside, she drew back. Her presence wasn’t gone, but it had returned to its place in the corner of his mind that was reserved for her, and he took one breath and then another before he focused his attention on Poe once more.

“Who is it?” Kylo asked, his mouth drawn. “Leading them.”

The pilot was watching him, eyes narrowed, but he responded nonetheless. “General—although I suppose it’s _Supreme Leader_ now—Hux.”

The anger came rushing back then, Kylo’s fists clenching so that his nails bit into his palms. Hux was Supreme Leader? Forceless, cruel, dedicated to protocol Hux? Kylo would have brought the galaxy to heel as Supreme Leader, ended a useless and corrupt system to replace it with his own. Hux would only build another Starkiller and destroy everything in his path until nothing was left but those who had allied with him from the beginning, and even they wouldn’t be safe.

Kylo, at least, would have given the fools a chance.

He could feel Rey stirring in the back of his mind, but he nudged her back in favor of closing his eyes and slowing his breathing. She couldn’t be the one to teach him how to control himself. He had to do that on his own.

He had to learn control on his own, and he had to remember that he was no longer Kylo Ren, that the First Order wasn’t his any longer, that he was becoming something else and he needed to carve his own path rather than following the one that Snoke had laid out for him all those years ago, back when he was too young to understand and so desperate for someone to accept him.

“Hux is dangerous,” Kylo said eventually. He didn’t miss the tiny flicker of mirth in Poe’s eyes at the statement. If anything, it made him tenser. “I mean that. For all that I’ve done—for all the lives I’ve taken and destruction I’ve caused—he’s much more dangerous than I am. He won’t walk away from anything. He lacks _compassion._ ”

He all but spit out the last word, the word that should have been the sign of the beginning of the end all those years before, the word that was responsible for his downfall—and perhaps, if he was lucky, for his second chance.

“And what does that have to do with anything?” Poe asked. “There are those who would say the same thing about you, you know.”

“I don’t enjoy killing, Dameron,” Kylo said. “It’s not something that I do for amusement, even if people think it is. It’s a means to an end, just like anything else. Or perhaps not. Hux, though?” He shook his head. “Hux has no qualms about taking innocent lives. He destroyed the Hosnian system because he could, because it was there and he wanted to make a point.”

“And what about Jakku?” Poe asked, his eyes flashing. “You ordered the slaughter of every person in that village, _Kylo_. You’re the reason why all of those people are dead.”

“I ordered it because Supreme— _Snoke_ ordered it,” Kylo said, unable to stop the twisting in his stomach at the sound of that name coming out of Poe’s mouth after weeks of nothing but “Ben.” “And I let Finn go, Poe.” He sank down onto one of the benches along the wall, dropping his head into his hands. “I could have ordered that he be killed for not doing his duty, for being a _traitor_ , or had him sent to reconditioning immediately, but I let him go.”

Truth be told, he still didn’t know what it was that had caused him to let the then-Stormtrooper leave without punishment. He didn’t know when things had shifted, when his destiny had become murky and he had been faced with a call to return home that he could no longer ignore. To say that it was when he’d taken the life of his own father seemed entirely inaccurate, as he’d done that to prove to himself—to everyone—that he was too far gone, but he’d only sought that proof because he had already started slipping.

Letting Finn go, letting him escape with his life rather than punishing him or killing him, hadn’t been something that Kylo thought about. He just let the other man go without stopping to consider why he was doing it or what the consequences would be. It wasn’t about Finn’s abilities, or anything relating to the First Order. It was something in Kylo, something that he had kept buried deep beneath years of pain and resentment, which had stayed his hand that night.

When Kylo finally looked up again, Poe shook his head.

“You’re in no shape to spar today,” he said.

“I’m fine,” Kylo said, pushing himself to his feet. “And you’re clearly still angry with me, so it won’t do you any good if I leave now.”

Poe watched him for a moment. “If you’re sure.”

“I am,” Kylo said.

Just as he suspected it would, when they began to spar a few moments later, it quickly devolved from a series of drills into a genuine fight. It didn’t seem like Poe was swinging with a real intent to hurt, but there was anger behind his blows, anger that Kylo couldn’t blame him for. All he felt in the pit of his stomach was shame—shame for how much pain he’d caused, for how blind he’d been, for how three months wasn’t enough for him to shake off the indoctrination of Snoke and the First Order so that he could begin to move on—and he made little effort to block the hits.

By the time their fight ended and Kylo made his way back to his quarters, he was exhausted. He didn’t often sleep in the middle of the day—his mind was restless in a way that it never was at night, especially since Rey had begun to meditate with him—but he fell into bed nonetheless, hoping as he drifted into unconsciousness that he would be fortunate enough not to dream.

His luck had run out, if he’d ever had any to begin with, for he was faced with the sight of the village on Jakku, the one where he’d killed Lor San Tekka and captured Poe, the one where everyone had died because he had given the order, the one where he couldn’t absolve himself of blame because while it might have been the way of the First Order, he had been the one to order the slaughter.

New nightmares followed that one, nightmares that were the creation of his mind rather than instances of memory. He watched as Hux killed Luke, Poe, Finn, Rey, Chewie, his mother, his _father_ , watched as a new Starkiller destroyed all of D’Qar and everything else in the Ileenium system with him helpless to stop it, and there was nothing he could do when a faceless creature clothed in black raised a lightsaber above him and brought it down with Hux laughing in the background.

He jolted awake as the lightsaber met his neck, sweat beading on his forehead and his breaths coming in gasps. Head in his hands, he sat there, his heart racing in his chest. There was moisture at the corners of his eyes, and he pressed the palms of his hands into the sockets, pressing on the closed lids as though he could banish the images from his mind in the process.

Nothing worked, though, and after a while, he dragged himself out of bed. After a quick trip into the ‘fresher to make sure that he didn’t look like he was entirely lost, he made his way through the compound to Chewie’s quarters, noting along the way that he’d slept through dinner.

The Wookiee was settled some distance from the rest of the barracks, close to where the Falcon sat while it was on the ground. Kylo knew that Luke and Leia visited Chewie regularly, as did Rey, and he was present for strategy meetings, but apart from that he kept to himself.

He was seated in front of the holochess table when Kylo entered his quarters, gaze locked on the game in front of him, but he offered up a greeting in Shyriiwook nonetheless.

“You’re playing against yourself, Uncle Chewie?” Kylo asked, drawing up a seat across from the Wookiee. “Doesn’t that get to be a little predictable?”

Chewie barked out a laugh. He reset the board, and it wasn’t long before he and Kylo were locked in a heated match. Despite the fact that they’d been playing almost every day since the night when they’d finally reconnected, neither had managed to gain a significant margin of victory over the other and every game was a chance to widen it.

They made it through three games, Chewie having beaten him by a narrow margin in each one, only for Kylo to stop resetting the board when the Wookiee asked a question.

“Nothing’s wrong,” Kylo said, avoiding Chewie’s gaze. Chewie continued to watch him, waiting, and eventually Kylo let out a strangled sigh. “You died. You died and Mom died and so did Rey and Finn and Poe, and stars, Uncle Chewie, I watched Dad die again.” His voice was bordering on hysterical at the end of the sentence, and he ducked his head as a heaving breath ripped through his chest. “I _killed_ him and I have to watch that over and over again, and now my mind is conjuring up new scenarios where it happens and making me watch them too.”

Chewie settled a heavy hand on his shoulder as he struggled to regain control of his breath. It was still weak when he spoke again.

“I’m never going to be free of this, am I?” He didn’t wait for an answer before he continued. “I’m going to have to watch it happen for the rest of my life, relive it every time I close my eyes, relive every single time I hurt someone or killed or stood by to let those things happen without even trying to stop them, and it’s going to kill me.” He looked up at Chewbacca with reddened eyes, tears burning at the corners. “I should’ve died. I should be dead. Why should I be alive when so many others aren’t because of me?”

Chewie rose and crossed to Kylo’s side of the table to pull him into a hug. The Wookiee was crooning words of comfort in Shyriiwook once again, just as he had that night in the clearing, and Kylo half-listened. The sound of the words was a comfort as much as their actual meaning, and when Chewie finally stopped and released him, Kylo wiped his face with shaking hands.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I shouldn’t keep coming to you when these things happen.” He shook his head when Chewie protested. “I’ve caused you enough pain. I don’t need to burden you with mine too.”

When he returned to his quarters a short time later, he nearly stopped. Rey was leaning up against the wall beside the door, and she raised her eyebrows as he approached.

“Quite the dream you had there,” she said.

“I’d rather not discuss it,” Kylo said as he opened the door.

Truth be told, he didn’t need to discuss it. Not with her. He knew that she’d seen it, that she knew exactly what it was that was weighing on his shoulders, and he wasn’t going to make her go through it again in her own mind. It was probably hell enough that she had to see it repeated within his.

“Whatever you want,” Rey said. She didn’t speak again until they were both inside, the door closed behind them. “Are we going to be meditating tonight, or was your nap enough sleep for you until tomorrow?”

“I still need to meditate even if I don’t sleep,” Kylo said. “Perhaps more so.”

Rey nodded, her gaze locked on him as he went through the routine motions of preparing for bed—if he was going to sleep, he was going to at least attempt to be comfortable. Once he was finished, they settled into their usual position, back-to-back. As Kylo was preparing to close his eyes and count his breaths, Rey shifted. He waited, assuming she would settle, but when she shifted again, he sighed.

“Is there something you’d like to say, scavenger?”

He could feel her flash of annoyance through the bond, but it disappeared after a few moments to be replaced with quiet acceptance.

“It’s not going to happen, you know.” He didn’t offer her a response, and she twisted to glance at him over her shoulder before she returned to her original position. “None of us are going anywhere, and you aren’t the reason why any of those things happened in your dream.” She winced a moment later. “Well, the second dream.”

“You can blame me,” Kylo said. “I know everyone does.”

“I do blame you,” she said. He tensed up then, only to relax as she said, “But not for everything.” She must have felt his confusion through the bond, because she continued on. “You’ll see what I mean at some point. It’s not all black and white, you know.”

“Isn’t it?” he asked.

“Not when there’s a war going on,” she said. “And not any time after it either. The lines are just blurred a little more when there’s sides to be chosen and goals to be met.” She let out a quiet breath after that, her back settling against his once more. “But enough about that. You need to meditate, so we’re going to meditate.”

He didn’t argue with her, instead allowing the few barriers that he kept up between them during the day to fall. Their minds ran together as she did the same, the fragments of light and dark that made them weaving together and filling in the gaps left by the other until everything was a cohesive whole.

 _You feel like Ben today,_ she said eventually, the thought moving into his mind without difficulty. The statement nearly startled him out of his meditation, as they’d never spoken to one another in it before, but he fell back into it after a moment.

 _What does that mean?_ he replied.

Her shrug was mental, not physical, but it was a shrug nonetheless. _Some days you feel like Ben and other days you feel like Kylo. I don’t know what it means, really, since I’m not you, and I don’t know how to explain the difference, but I thought you should know._

His nod was mental too, but he knew she understood. _I suppose you’re right_. _Can you tell me any difference between the two at all?_

She seemed to be searching for something, and it took her a few moments to respond. _Kylo’s angry, and hurt, and scared. Ben’s just..._ She paused then, and he could feel the weight in her response as she finished. _Ben’s just sad._

And maybe he was.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kylo's beating himself up, Poe's still pissed off, Finn will play a bigger part in the story later on (we're not there yet), I'm twenty-four chapters into the plot outline for this, and Kylo and Rey's little Force Bond conversation at the end there is probably my favorite part of this entire thing. 
> 
> It might seem a little soon for them to be talking like that, especially since she was staying away from him, but there's usually at least a week between chapters in 'verse (my timeline's not entirely specific and I'll probably wind up smoothing it out once I'm finished with the story for continuity's sake, but this is a couple of weeks after the last chapter), so they've spent a lot of time in each other's heads already and she's got a feel for him at this point, even if it's not a perfect one.
> 
> I've hit 200 kudos across the four stories that I currently have posted, and while I know that's not a lot (some people get ten times that many on one work), it's only been a month and it's a lot to me, so thank you to everyone who's left some. You guys encourage me to keep working.
> 
> Also, it seems that writing updates for this is just what I do post-studying the night before an accounting exam.
> 
> It's a little rough and I don't know if I'm entirely happy with it, so if I go back and make some edits later, don't be surprised, but I hope you guys like it, and let me know what you think.
> 
> It's time for me to go sleep now. Until next time.


	8. Chapter 8

The depth of Rey’s words didn’t leave him as the days passed. They hung over him, shifting like clouds to obscure and reveal things that he thought he’d locked away in the deepest parts of himself, and there was little he could do to escape it.

Truthfully, he didn’t want to escape it. He didn’t want to escape the odd feeling of certainty that had accompanied the words, the idea that whoever it was that he’d done his best to bury wasn’t actually gone, that he wasn’t so deep as to be lost completely. She hadn’t seem unsure at all in what she meant, but instead in how to phrase it, and he found it difficult to argue with the sentiments that she’d expressed.

Admitting it was difficult, after so many years of hiding first behind no emotion at all and then behind pain and anger, but he was sad. At the deepest parts of himself, beneath all of the things that he’d done and all of the reactions he felt, there was a feeling of sadness that he couldn’t put proper words to. It pulled on his shoulders, sat heavily in his chest, made it so that when he paused as he was fetching more holobooks from the library, he wasn’t staring at titles but instead at memories that didn’t even feel like his own anymore.

It was comforting, in an odd way. After all the time he’d spent allowing himself to feel nothing but things that fueled hatred, sadness was different. Sadness fueled care, kindness, compassion. Even if he didn’t have any of those things—even if most of the base still believed he was sadistic and unhinged—it gave him hope that he might one day.

 _Hope_. He’d been meant for it at one point in his life, been the thing that gave people a reason to have it, and look how it had backfired. Instead of proving to everyone that the Skywalker bloodline wasn’t inherently dangerous, that they could all resist the call of the Dark Side, he’d only succeeded in confirming the suspicions that surrounded him. To suddenly be feeling it again, to think that he might be able to be something other than what he’d always thought he was—other than what the people around him had told him he should be—wasn’t something that he was used to.

He could feel Rey watching him when they crossed paths, as infrequently as the event occurred. She tracked his movements, followed him with her eyes as he went about his day, and though he never sensed judgment from her, it still unnerved him. Their bond stayed silent through most of their waking hours, much as she did, and it wasn’t until she would join him in his rooms each night that the barriers would fall and she would speak to him.

She rarely said anything of consequence, choosing instead to offer him small slivers of information or the occasional comment about something she’d learned that day. He could tell that she wasn’t trying to engage him directly, and she had little reason to ask about his comings and goings. His days were still the same, still predictable, while hers were filled with new lessons and exercises he remembered from his own time as a Padawan.

Then again, perhaps he still was one.

He knew that the Resistance leaders were plotting, trying to figure out a way to dismantle the First Order before it could regain its footing, but it was futile. One thing that he knew after all those years was that Hux had been planning for what had come—contingencies. The man had plenty of them, though having to put them into action was something that had never been foreseen. It was something that Kylo had never understood, how a man so dedicated to his tasks could think they might fail, but that hadn’t stopped Hux.

No, Hux would have rebuilt as quickly as he could, taken inventory of the fighters that he had left, and retreated to some distant planet until their strength returned. He was a tactician and a war leader, and he wouldn’t be one to strike without preparation. Whenever the First Order chose to resurface, whenever they launched their first attack against the Resistance, it would be full force and difficult to combat.

Poe kept him up-to-date on the decisions that were made (not that there were many). Things had become somewhat tenuous between them once again, much as he didn’t want it to be that way, and their contact was limited to their sparring sessions.

Otherwise, Poe left him alone.

They all did, really, which was why he couldn’t help the surprise that ran through him at the feeling of Rey outside his door one afternoon as he read. He waited until she knocked to open it, not wanting to preempt her if she was just passing by, and was immediately greeted by her even expression. One hand rested on top of her lightsaber at her belt, the other dangling by her side, her posture relaxed.

“You don’t think I need to meditate in the middle of the afternoon, do you?” he asked.

One corner of her mouth quirked up into a half-smile, and she shook her head after a moment. “No, that’s not it, although I do think you could use it sometimes.” She looked up and met his gaze, her eyes clear and unafraid. “The officers sent me to bring you to them.”

He raised his eyebrows. “What, have they decided that they’re going to do away with me?”

The look she cast in his direction was anything but amused. “No, and you’d have to be mad to think your mother would let them do that anyway.” He shifted uncomfortably—his relationship with Leia was something that he still struggled with, even with her forgiveness—and Rey shrugged. “I think they want your input, but whether or not you’re willing to provide it remains to be seen.”

“Why would they want my input?” He pulled on his tunic and outer robe, unconcerned about Rey’s presence. “They’ve seemed perfectly content to forget about me so far.”

“You’re a former high ranking member of the First Order and you’re conveniently located within the walls of the largest base of the Resistance,” she said. “ _Think_ , Ben.” Her eyes widened then, though the rest of her expression didn’t change. “Sorry, you just—”

“Feel like Ben today?” he asked, a wry expression on his face. She nodded, and he lifted one shoulder in a slight shrug. “I’ll let you be the judge of that, since it all feels the same to me.” He gestured toward the corridor. “Lead the way.”

“It doesn’t all feel the same, and you know it,” she said as they made their way out of his quarters, the door shutting behind them with a wave of the Force.

“I’m afraid I don’t know what you mean,” he said.

She lifted one eyebrow. “You mean to tell me that you don’t feel different today than you did when you got here? That you aren’t less… Volatile?”

He bit back a retort. Her questions weren’t inaccurate, not in the slightest, and it wasn’t their content that brought a rise out of him. It was the answer that made him uncomfortable, because he didn’t really know how to explain it.

Yes, he was still angry. He’d been angry for a long time, ever since he was a child, always on edge in regards to those around him, but his anger had been tempered recently. It took longer to get a rise out of him, and he hadn’t thrown any of his tantrums (as Hux had been so fond of calling them) since his defection. Really, if he were being honest, he was the most emotionally stable that he’d been in his entire life.

“I don’t know,” he said eventually. “Things have been a bit… quiet up here, lately.” He gestured towards his head.

She nodded. “They have, haven’t they?” It was his turn to raise his eyebrows at her, and she did nothing but stare at him, unfazed. “I spent multiple years getting glimpses of what was inside your head, Ben. I know how much he talked to you.”

There was no need for her to specify who _he_ was, and Kylo knew she was right. Since his infancy, he’d never had his thoughts to himself, not until the moment that he drove his lightsaber through Snoke’s chest. In a way, he still didn’t, but Rey wasn’t always in his head. Her presence was there, that much was true, but she didn’t watch him constantly, or try to take information from him as he received it. His thoughts were his own for the first time in his life, and the quiet of his mind made it easier for him to keep a handle on things.

That was, it was easier for him to keep a handle on things as long as he was awake. When he slept, it was a different story, but even that had changed somewhat since his arrival on base. Rey’s continued presence before he went to sleep each night had given him a way to center himself, to stabilize his position in the Force just enough to keep the worst of the nightmares at bay. He still dreamed, but the content of the dreams had changed and most of the time he didn’t remember them upon waking.

He didn’t say anything else, and Rey didn’t push the matter, instead falling into an easy silence beside him. That was perhaps the thing that baffled him most—she had every reason to hate him, and he felt that she probably did, but she hid it well. Her eyes were clear every time she looked at him, unclouded by fear or judgment, and though they rarely interacted outside of their meditation, that was his fault more than anyone’s.

When they reached the room where the Resistance officials were having their meeting, Rey led the way in. He stuck close behind her, and was immediately met by hard gazes that softened as they slid from his face to Rey’s.

The only ones who weren’t looking at him with any sort of annoyance—surprise, perhaps, but not annoyance—were Luke, Chewie, and Leia (even Poe had turned his nose up slightly, though Finn seemed less concerned). He offered his mother and uncles a nod, unwilling to give up anything else, and a small smile formed on Leia’s face before she nodded in return.

(He couldn’t help the guilt that spread through him at the fact that so simple an action from him would elicit a response of happiness from her.)

Rey settled into one of the few empty seats around the holomap of their system and gestured for him to sit down beside her. He did so without protest, doing his best to meet the gazes of Admiral Statura and Major Ematt in turn. Statura’s eyes traced the line that ran across Kylo’s face and down to his shoulder, the silvery scar an unchangeable remnant of that snowy encounter with Rey on Starkiller. Kylo refused to let himself move, sitting unchanging for the duration of the admiral’s assessment, and eventually Statura turned his attention to the rest of the room.

“I trust that most of you have heard the news and understand why you’ve been called here today,” Statura said. “For those who are unaware, we’ve had reports come in from our spies within the Mortex sector. The Esstran sector is active once again.” He looked at Kylo, who met his gaze without hesitation. “The First Order is rebuilding and word has come that they are seeking an attack upon this base. General Organa and I have spoken and agreed that it is unwise to attempt to relocate, as nearly all of our permanent settlement is here. Therefore, it is of the utmost importance that each and every one of you begins preparing your regiments for a battle. No one is to go unarmed, and we must be ready for an attack at any moment.”

“You don’t think staying here poses an unnecessary risk?”

It was a female Dathomirian who had spoken, her blue eyes narrowed as she looked at Statura. She wore a jacket similar to the one that Kylo had seen Finn sporting, and the patch on its shoulder told him that, if nothing else, she was a lieutenant. He had to stop himself from staring—few Dathomirians had survived the Clone Wars, and while he knew that there were some who were part of the Resistance, he hadn’t known that any served as officers.

“No, Lieutenant, we don’t,” Leia said.

The tone in her voice left no room for argument, and Kylo couldn’t help but wince. He knew that tone. That was the tone that had promised that he would be in big trouble if he tried to disagree, the tone that had been turned on him and Poe more than once in their youth after some foolish escapade. He glanced across the room to see the pilot with a similarly pained expression on his face, and a momentary meeting of their gazes told Kylo that they had the same thought.

“Colsan has a point,” Poe said after a moment. “How can we hope to meet them in battle if we don’t know when they’re coming?”

“Thank you, Dameron,” the lieutenant said.

“We prepare,” Leia said. “We make sure that we’re always ready.” She turned her attention to Kylo. “We’re not sure who is orchestrating this, though we have some idea, and that, Ben, is where you come in.”

“I know nothing,” Kylo said, trying to ignore the way that Leia’s face fell slightly at his words. “I’m not exactly in communication with General Hux anymore, now am I? I’m sure he’d have plenty of fond words for a _traitor_.”

He spat the last word, noting how some of the individuals present shrunk back slightly in their seats. One didn’t, though, and he watched as a female Echani rose from her seat, fury evident on her face.

“You test your bounds,” she hissed. “You test the kindness that has been shown to you, and you throw it in our faces. You think there are none who are suspicious, when you may have been in contact with your Order since the day you arrived on this planet? You should pay for what you’ve done to us, for the pain you’ve caused, not—”

“Nomi,” Leia said, cutting the Echani off. “This is neither the time nor the place to address your personal vendettas. Please.”

“Nomi Zasha,” Rey whispered to him as the Echani began to argue with Leia. “Her husband died on Korriban. It happened before you… You know.”  

Kylo inclined his head slightly, and they turned their attention to his mother. After the argument wore on for a few moments, Rey cleared her throat. Leia and Nomi fell silent, both turning to look at her. Leia’s expression was one of exhaustion, while Nomi’s maintained the anger that had been present.

“I can assure you, Captain Zasha, that this man has not been in contact with the First Order since his arrival here,” Rey said. She held up her hand when Nomi tried to speak. “I’ve been in his mind, Captain. There is little he can hide from me.”

“Little?” Nomi asked, her eyes narrowed. “Little implies that he can still hide, Jedi.”

“I am still nothing more than a Padawan, Captain, and you must trust me on this,” Rey said. “Ben—Kylo—hasn’t been in contact with anyone but several of the people you see within this room since he joined us on D’Qar.”

Nomi looked as though she was going to argue further, only to stop when Leia nodded.

“We will trust Rey,” Leia said. “She has not given us a reason to do otherwise.” She glanced at Kylo. “Please, Ben. If you know anything, we need it.”

She was pleading with him as she met his gaze, her eyes silently begging for him to do this one favor for her, to help her, to show everyone in the room that they hadn’t made a mistake in allowing him to remain alive. He could feel Luke watching him, and Chewie as well, but he remained locked in his mother’s stare.

He covered a yawn after a moment, unfolding himself from the chair that he sat in, and crossed to the map. After punching in a few commands, a map that covered the Outer Rim territories replaced the one of the Ileenium system.

“I’ve already offed the Supreme Leader,” he muttered as Rey came to stand beside him. “What’s a little bit more information between me and the people who would like me dead?”

A feeling of warmth spread through him when she let out a quiet laugh, and he allowed himself to bask in it for a moment before he gestured to the map.

“We’re looking at the Outer Rim here,” he said. “Assuming the connections are still intact, the First Order has contacts in other regions, but the bases are going to be here.” He looked up and met Leia’s gaze first, then Luke’s, and finally Statura’s, before he continued. “General Hux will have declared himself Supreme Leader, as I believe you know, with Captain—now likely General—Phasma as his right hand. I’ve little doubt the Knights of Ren are working with them as well, likely with Kruto Ren at their helm.”

“Kruto Ren?” an unfamiliar lieutenant asked.

Kylo nodded. “He was beneath me. He’s Force sensitive and highly dangerous. If he comes here, every one of you should fear for your life.” He ignored the whispers amongst the present officers in favor of zooming in on the Esstran sector. “Now, if you look here, we had a small tactical base…”

It took him the better part of the afternoon to map out every base and outpost that had remained at the time of the Korriban fight, with officers cutting in every now and then to question him about the specifics. He could feel Rey committing it all to memory beside him, her gaze darting from one section of the map to another as she drew connections between bases and mapped out flight routes. Every once in a while, something would slip past the barrier between their minds and he would falter for a moment before continuing on.

When Kylo finally finished speaking, Statura glanced down at the notes that one of the officers had been taking. After looking over them for a moment, he nodded.

“We’ll coordinate scouting patrols starting tomorrow,” the admiral said. “Officers, you know your orders. See Captain Rato with any questions.”

He didn’t give Kylo any acknowledgment before he swept out of the room, most of the officers filing out behind him. A dry laugh sounded, and Kylo turned around to see Leia shaking her head.

“He’s got too much pride for his own good sometimes,” Leia said. She smiled at him, gratitude in her gaze, and he shifted uncomfortably. “Thank you, Ben. We needed that.”

“Fair payment for not having me killed on sight,” he said.

Her face fell, and Luke shook his head before escorting his sister from the room, Chewie following close behind. Poe and Finn lingered by the door as Rey touched Kylo’s sleeve gently, her fingers putting the tiniest amount of pressure on his arm.

“She’s right, you know,” Rey said. “We did need that, and people are going to start to trust you more when they realize that you aren’t trying to do us all in.” She tilted her head slightly, taking in the way that his jaw tightened. “Would you like me to come with you to meditate?”

He looked at her, then at where Poe and Finn stood, only to shake his head. “No, you go to dinner. I’ll be fine.”

She watched him for a moment, something flickering over her face too quickly for him to catch it. “I hope so.”

She left him then, Poe and Finn greeting her with a statement that brought about a round of laughter as they exited the room.

He stood there watching them leave, the light of the holomap casting shadows across his face as he tried to figure out why part of him felt like he had just found something that he didn’t know he had.

The answer would elude him for the rest of the evening.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I rewrote Rey and Kylo's first conversation in this chapter about six times. Oops. But look, new characters! They may or may not actually feature with any regularity, I haven't decided yet. Part of me wants them to, but we'll see.
> 
> I hope you guys like the chapter (I don't know if anyone has noticed, but they're getting longer).
> 
> Also, fun fact: "Kruto" means "cruel" in Slovenian, which is why I chose it (combined with the fact that it just sounds cool). Slovenia is the homeland more than anything else (I am very much Irish and Slovenian and the rest of me is a disaster) and I desperately want to learn to speak the language, but it's kind of hard for me to find someone to teach me (plus Slovak languages are the hardest to learn if you didn't grow up speaking them). One day. Maybe.


	9. Chapter 9

She found him sitting cross-legged atop a boulder some distance from the center of the compound, his hands resting on his knees and his eyes closed as he attempted to meditate one early afternoon. He’d taken to leaving his rooms in favor of the wooded areas of the compound, the feeling of sunlight and air on his skin one that he still couldn’t get enough of after so many years hidden beneath robes and masks, and he knew that she had to have tracked him with the help of their bond, as he hadn’t bothered to tell anyone where he was going—after the strategy meeting the week prior, the guards outside his door had disappeared.

He didn’t acknowledge her as she approached, choosing instead to focus on his heartbeat. She said nothing, taking a seat beside him instead, and for several minutes they breathed in quiet synchronicity until he removed his hands from his knees and opened his eyes.

“What now?” he asked. The wind whipped loose tendrils of hair around her face as he looked at her, and he resisted the urge to reach over and brush them out of the way. “Does Statura want to exploit the prisoner again?”

She rolled her eyes and shook her head. “No, but your mother has something to ask of you.”

“And she couldn’t have sent someone else to come get me?” he asked.

Rey looked out through the trees, drawing her knees to her chest and folding her arms around them before she responded. “She could have, but we all know that I have better luck finding you than most.”

“You and I both know that luck has nothing to do with it,” he said. She was quiet, and his eyes narrowed after a moment. “Does anyone else know, Rey?”

“No one aside from your mother and Luke,” she said. “And Chewie, I suppose. Poe and Finn have some idea of what’s going on, but they don’t know the full extent of it.”

“Why not?” he asked.

She glanced at him, only to turn back to the trees once more. “I know that my first duty should be to the Resistance, but… They’re your thoughts and your memories. It’s bad enough that I’m privy to them. I didn’t want Statura to find out and order me to search for anything useful.” That she would have refused if asked went unspoken, but he knew it was what should have followed, and she shifted before continuing. “You’ve had enough people rifling through your head. We all have.”

He caught a flash of his own face in a room on the Finalizer before she tightened the boundaries between them, and he couldn’t help but wince. That moment was one he knew well, one that he’d relived over and over again in his dreams, always focused on the fear in her eyes as he tried to take information from her and then the terror he felt when she turned his probe on him, when she uncovered his deepest fear.

Tugging his bottom lip between his teeth, he looked at her. Her grip on her legs was tight, and her lips were pursed as she fixed her eyes on some distant point. He took a deep breath, the weight of what he was about to do heavy on his shoulders.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I don’t think I ever told you that.”

She looked at him then, liquid shining at the corners of her eyes. He could see the fear reflected back at him once again, and he knew that she was trapped in the memory just as he was so often. She swallowed, their breathing falling out of sync, and he turned away from her.

“I know it’s too late for apologies,” he said. “And I know that saying I’m sorry doesn’t make it right. I just…” He shook his head. “I should have never done that.”

She didn’t say anything for a long moment, and when she finally spoke, the barriers between their minds lowered ever so slightly so that he could feel the intent behind her words. “You’re right. You shouldn’t have.” He took in a short breath, unable to look at her. “But I understand why you did it.”

That was when he turned to face her. Her tears were gone, replaced by a sad look backed by an emotion that he knew all too well, and he shifted uncomfortably beneath her gaze. She didn’t say anything else as she looked at him, and much as he wanted to, he didn’t look away. He couldn’t. He owed her that and more.

No words were exchanged between them for a while. They simply looked at each other, both aware that they couldn’t say what needed to be said—it wasn’t time for that yet. Maybe one day, but not yet. They had gone as far as they could at that point. The apology took more out of him than he’d expected, and he couldn’t bring himself to go any further.

Eventually, she stretched her legs out in front of her and tilted her head back so that the sunlight could fall on her face. He watched her for a moment before he followed suit, and after a few minutes, she spoke.

“We should head back, if you’re all right with that.”

“Do you know what she wants?” he asked.

Rey shook her head. “It’s for her to tell you, not me.” She clambered to her feet, dusting her hands off on her pants as she straightened. “It’s nothing bad, though. I can promise you that much.”

“Send you to bring bad news? They wouldn’t dare,” he said, his voice dry.

She looked down at him, exasperation filling her gaze. “Come on, or I’m going to have to drag Poe out here, and I’d really rather not do that since he’s otherwise occupied at the moment.”

There was a blush coloring her cheeks then, and he couldn’t help but tilt his head slightly. “I’m sure it’s nothing that you couldn’t interrupt.”

“It is,” she said, wincing. “Trust me.” She held out her hand then. “Really, Ben. We need to go.”

He put his hand in hers, unfazed by the electricity that seemed to jolt between their skin, and allowed her to haul him to his feet. She was much stronger than she looked—much stronger than she had been that first time they’d fought on Takodana and again in the woods on Starkiller—and she dropped his hand as soon as he was vertical.

She led the way along the paths through the compound, murmuring the occasional greeting to each Resistance fighter that they passed. He stared straight ahead, unwilling to face the stares of the soldiers around him, and when they finally reached his mother’s office, he nearly breathed a sigh of relief.

Leia was standing behind her desk, Luke on one side of her and Statura on the other. She fixed him with an even stare, and he met her gaze without looking away. After a moment, she smiled slightly and gestured for everyone to sit down.

With the exception of Statura, who looked as though he would prefer to be anywhere but where he was, they each took their seats. Rey sat beside Kylo, her hands resting in her lap, and he could feel calm radiating off of her as she watched Leia.

“What are you going to ask of me now?” Kylo said eventually, after the silence wore on for too long.

“Your uncle and I have a proposition for you,” Leia said. “As does the Admiral.”

“Much as I’d wish it otherwise,” Statura said, the look of disgust that he leveled on Kylo as fierce as it had been the day of his arrival.

“We’ve discussed it, along with the rest of the officers, and we’ve come to the conclusion that there is no one on base better suited to the job, though many are loathe to put a weapon in your hand again after all that you’ve done,” Leia said. Kylo shrank back beneath her gaze, and she shook her head. “We need someone to train our fighters to defend themselves against the Knights of Ren.”

“Defend themselves?” Kylo asked. “They can’t defend themselves. The Knights of Ren have been trained to be the elite in battle, and it takes a lifetime of training to best one of them—”

“I beat you, didn’t I?” Rey asked, cutting him off.

“That was extenuating circumstances,” Kylo bit out. “Most people aren’t capable of stealing training from within another’s mind.”

“No, they aren’t,” Luke said, his voice so calm that Kylo couldn’t help but look at him. “Most people don’t have the advantage of a former Knight of Ren’s training either.”

“We don’t need you to make our fighters invincible, Ben,” Leia said. “We just need you to give them the ability to last a little bit longer.” She stood up and crossed to his side of the desk, leaning back against it once she was in front of him. “You’ll start small, with Rey and Finn and Poe, and as things progress with them, we’ll introduce others to the program. Assuming, of course, that you agree.”

“Why would I?” Kylo asked.

“Because we need your help,” Leia said.

 _Because it’s the right thing to do_ went unsaid, but he knew that was the end of her sentence. She was looking at him with a small amount of pleading in her expression, as if to say _please don’t make a fool out of me in front of the Admiral, please make the right choice, please be who I know you could be_ , and much as he wanted to disagree for the sake of it, he found that he couldn’t.

“I suppose I might be able to help,” he said after a long pause. “But only if you agree to let me do this my way.”

Leia and Luke exchanged a glance, and after a moment, Luke nodded in Rey’s direction. Leia followed the gesture, and Kylo turned just in time to see Rey shrug. Statura hadn’t moved, his glare still fixed on Kylo, and Leia and Luke paid him no mind as they turned their attention back to Kylo.

“Please be careful, Ben,” Leia said.

“I doubt I’ll need to be, as I’m sure Rey will be watching my every move, but I appreciate the sentiment,” Kylo said, rising to his feet. “If that’s all.”

It wasn’t a question, and he was out of the room before anyone could say anything. Rey followed him, and he didn’t miss her exasperated sigh as the door closed behind him.

“Going to scold me, scavenger?”

“Must you call me that?” she asked, darting around him to plant herself firmly in his path, arms crossed and eyes flashing. As tiny as she was compared to him, slight and unassuming, the frustration that crackled off of her nearly made him wince, especially in comparison to her calm from less than an hour earlier. “You’re so—so—”

“Infuriating?” he offered. “Obnoxious? Stubborn? Frustrating? Contrary? Obstinate?”

“Yes!” she burst out, her chest heaving as she stared at him. “You walk around here like you get to make the decisions even though you’d be _dead_ if your mother wasn’t so convincing, and you never stop to think about how you’re affecting the people around you, and—”

The corners of his lips were twitching as he attempted to keep a smile off of his face, and she stopped speaking in favor of throwing her hands up in the air and turning around, still muttering to herself.

“Why I even bother, you little—”

“I’m hardly little,” he said, his long strides making it easy for him to keep pace with her as she hurried through the corridors. “But I see your point.”

Her anger didn’t dissipate, but the ferocity with which it gathered ground to a halt. “Really?”

His voice was quiet as he responded, and he kept his gaze on the wall in front of them. “I can’t unmake myself in a day, or a few months. I know I don’t deserve it, but you have to give me time.” She didn’t say anything, and he ran his hand through his hair after a moment. “Now, where am I going to be doing this training?”

* * *

 

Several weeks passed more quickly than he would have expected. The training sessions took up more time than he’d originally thought, especially as he was faced with the task of instructing Finn and Poe. Both were good fighters—that much he knew from their sparring sessions—but they were unfamiliar with how to combat those who weren’t Stormtroopers. Having fought him numerous times in the previous months, they were further along than most would have been, but he had begun to employ more of the tricks that he knew, and that combined with the addition of close-combat weapons only served to make things more difficult for them.

“This is never going to happen,” Poe said, wiping his forehead with a towel as he sank down onto one of the benches that lined their training room.

“You’ve gotten a lot better than you were three weeks ago,” Rey said, hopping down from her perch on one of the weapon cases. “You too, Finn.”

“We’re getting our arses kicked on a daily basis,” Finn said. “I’d hope we’re improving at least a little bit.” He took a sip of water and shook his head. “I don’t envy everyone else once they get started on this.”

“Who’s even going to be next?” Poe asked.

Rey shrugged. “Lieutenant Colsan, probably, and Olan Qualto, if he’s up for it, and then one of the squads if things go smoothly with those two.”

“Better keep Zasha away from here if we want to keep him alive,” Poe said, nodding in Kylo’s direction.

Kylo leveled a stare in his direction. “She’s welcome to try.”

Shaking her head, Rey picked up her staff. “We’re trying to keep everyone alive here, remember?” She spun the weapon in her hands, drawing Kylo’s attention to her. “My turn.”

He picked up the wooden practice ‘saber that he’d been using, bowing slightly in her direction. “Whenever you’re ready.”

They squared off in the center of the room, Poe and Finn’s stares fading away until it was just the two of them locking gazes, weapons at the ready. For a few moments, all Kylo was conscious of was the light in Rey’s eyes and the quiet sound of her breathing, and it was just as he was settling into the pattern that she swung her staff around and began to attack.

She was faster, smarter, stronger, than she had been during their first lightsaber battle, and she kept up with him without much difficulty. For every hit he tried to land, she was there to block him, and vice-versa. They kept the walls up between their minds in an attempt to keep the fight as fair as possible, but even without that advantage, she always seemed to be one step ahead.

They pushed each other around the room, continually regaining the ground that they lost, and it wasn’t until her staff went slipping past his practice ‘saber to pause just shy of his neck that he stopped, his gaze locked on hers.

There was something flickering there at the back of her eyes, a look that he recognized all too well, and they both stared at each other for several moments before she lowered her staff and bowed her head, her shoulders rising and falling with her breaths. He couldn’t do anything but watch her, trying to tell himself that he hadn’t seen what he thought he had, that she wasn’t slipping in the way that he had in the past, but it was hard to do when she wouldn’t look at him.

“And once again, Rey makes everyone else look bad,” Poe said, breaking Kylo out of his trance. “What a stunning turn of events.”

Rey turned her attention to Poe then, the darkness at the edge of her gaze fading to be replaced with mirth. “I can’t help it that I’m better than you.”

“Yeah, yeah, that’s what they all say,” Poe said. “Or they would, if I actually fought more people who were better than me.” He glanced at Finn. “We’re going to go get something to eat. You coming?”

She shook her head. “I’m going to stretch for a bit, I think.”

“You sure?” Finn asked, his gaze flickering to Kylo for a moment.

Rey smiled. “I’ll be fine. I’ll see you two at dinner.” She let out a quiet laugh once they left the room, shaking her head once again before she began to stretch. “You’d think for all the time they’ve spent with you, they’d know that they don’t have to worry about you hurting me, but maybe not.”

“Their concern isn’t unfounded,” Kylo said as he took a seat on a bench.

“You haven’t hurt anyone yet, have you?” Rey asked.

“Perhaps not, but I’ve made plenty of people angry,” he said. “And who’s to say that I won’t snap and do something I shouldn’t? You have no way of knowing what I might do when provoked.”

“You didn’t attack Captain Zasha when she was angry with you,” Rey said. “You haven’t taken your frustrations out on Admiral Statura, even though you and I both know you could if you really wanted to.” She raised one arm over her head and bent sideways at the waist, the other arm reaching down to grasp her ankle. After a few moments in that position, she straightened and shrugged. “But then again, maybe I’m wrong. We haven’t seen you truly angry yet, have we?”

He opened his mouth to respond, only to shut it again, because she was right. They hadn’t seen him really, properly angry. No one on the base had been exposed to what he was fully capable of, and for their sake, they needed to hope that they never did.

It was a line he felt he’d always be walking, the one between normal anger and that level of fury that removed all restraints from him. Most people were never taught how to tap into that unconstrained side of their emotions, but it was all he’d known for years. To not slip into it again would likely be the greatest task that he would ever be faced with.

“No,” he said eventually. “I suppose you haven’t.”

Something told him no one had ever seen her that way either. Her level of patience was one that could only be earned through years of struggle, and from what he’d seen, she rarely deviated. They’d fought each other more than once over the previous years, and each time he had felt like he was seeing something that no one else was ever exposed to. His time on the base was only proving that point to him, as her calm didn’t seem to waver.

That was, it didn’t seem to waver except for a few minutes previous, when he’d seen that same ferocity in her eyes that he’d been faced with on Starkiller, a fury that told him that deep within her, she was just as conflicted as he was.

She just didn’t seem to know that yet.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, yeah, I posted this chapter last night, and then proceeded to do exactly what I'd expected in the morning, otherwise known as not like it, so I deleted that version and rewrote the last bit of it. 
> 
> I'm not loving my characterizations at the moment, so they might need some revising at a later point, but we'll see.
> 
> If you read the chapter last night, I hope you can forget it in favor of the changes made in this one, and I'll try to update again soon.
> 
> Thanks for reading!


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